Down the Hobbit Hole
by Kittykatrosetta
Summary: Tolkien played god. With sand and water he made life; built not a castle but a world. Middle Earth wasn't his playground, it was his child. And I'm changing things. A passerby, a visitor, intruder; a tourist, however foul the word, I wander Tolkien's elysium and leave my own footprints, stirring the sand. Tolkien might have been a god, but I am far from it.
1. The Beginning Before the Start

_**Down the Hobbit Hole**_

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

**The Beginning Before the Start**

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><p><em><strong>~Enlistment<strong>_

The night was cold and dark, and beautifully quiet. Brisk wind chilled my skin where my coat was loose, and my fingers and lips were sore and cracking. It was mid-December and despite Maryland's previous luck no school had been canceled for snow; a dismal three inches total for this season's winter, and weather reports didn't look optimistic.

I walked home from the bus stop, my legs tender and stomach hollow from a rigorous cross-country team practice. As a member of an energetic and active family, my schedule was near bursting with athletics. I made the fall soccer team (though my team only won two games, and the season ended quickly) and the spring Track league. Practices were after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I've attended a local Japanese dojo since 3rd grade, when a classmate flaunted his basic forms for Show-and-Tell. My mother, an F.B.I detective, was happy to sign me up, always a supporter of self-defense. The art of Kenjutsu...I'll admit it sounds pretty pretentious. My friends often refer to it as Karate and I never bother correcting them- the difference didn't really matter. I knew how to fight and wield a sword, however outdated the weapon was, and to them that was all that mattered. I have yet to find myself in a situation where my training has actually been of use, but hey, it's always nice to be prepared. Besides it was fun. Two times a week I got to beat the living crap out of some poor foam pads.

I've had my red belt for two years now, slowly but surely working towards black. But I was nowhere near close to earning it yet. Several times I was near quitting, because a different shiny activity caught my eye. Easily distracted, easily inspired- I'll see a schoolmate play the violin and suddenly that's my purpose in life. It rarely amounts to anything of course- my parents will refuse for a mountain of reasons and soon it leaves my mind. I don't play the violin, or any instrument for that matter. In 6th grade the school thrust cheep plastic recorders in our hands three times a week, and I discovered my incredible lack of musical talent. It was discouraging, and I never quite got over it; always singing off-key in the shower or jamming out on some crap guitar I found in the basement. Usually though I just listen to music during track or up in my room. Like most teenagers.

I had one block to walk, but I hurried. The cold was uncomfortable, to say the least.

I reared my street and began the downward slope to my home. All the houses were the same here; red-and-brown brick, two stories and plain-shingled roofs. Everything was the same in Brentbrook, my neighborhood and town. We were the suburbs- an abundance of trees and cars, wildlife and shops, nature's green and mankind's steel and brown. Not nearly as bad as the city, as the air was fresh and the night sky somewhat scattered with stars. Actually, a quaint little wood had an entrance just behind my neighbor's house, filled with thick trees and wild brush and deep enough that you could pretend to get lost. Sometimes, after having read a good book or finished an intensive TV series, I'll wander off the forest path and have a small adventure of my own. But I was always home in time for supper.

I smiled- that was a joke, you see. It had been three days since I saw Peter Jackson's final film in the Hobbit trilogy; Battle of the Five Armies. Three days, and still my mind was swimming with images and sounds. Middle Earth, Tolkien's brilliant world, had a special place in my heart. The Hobbit in particular, since I related to Bilbo almost spiritually. It's been a childhood dream of mine to go on an adventure. Peter Jackson and Tolkien, at least, provided me the opportunity to have one, be it through screen and book.

Home at last. I trudged up the front steps and unlocked the door. I took a moment to collect the mail. Riffling through the bundle of bills and junk as I stepped inside, I picked out a small yellow package envelope with my name.

Natasha Blinc

187 Netherview Dr.

Maryland, Brentbrook

"It came!" Excitedly I ripped away the packaging and tossed it aside. Within was a thick folded parchment. Astonished, I brushed my fingers cross the scratchy paper. The quality was superb, much better than I had hoped for. I made a mental note to give the Etsy seller a raving review as I carefully unfolded it.

It was Bilbo's contract.

Only, it wasn't signed. I had intended to buy it and hang it on my walls the moment the Battle of the Five Armies finished. There was something both sentimental and fulfilling about having a contract of my own. It was a stupid movie prop, but it was the ticket to Bilbo's adventure. I just had to have it.

I grabbed a pen from my backpack and stared at the blank space. I wanted my signature to look neat, crisp and careful. Slowly, thoughtfully, I swooped the pen in practiced motions. I signed the paper with a deep maroon "_Natasha Blinc"_. Finished, I folded it again and brought it to my room. My next step would be to frame it, but first I had to cook my little siblings' dinner.

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><p>After careful deliberation, I decided to hang the contracts above my night table. It complimented the dusty, moonlight paint of my bedroom walls, and the archaic, sophisticated theme. My bed was large and grand, with a beautiful antique oak headboard. A golden mirror much like the Mirror of Erised stood by a tall chestnut dresser, and a more modern desk sat across my bed; on it were pictures of friends and 3-year-old me and a little black paperweight that said "crazy cat lady". All real color came from my posters and artwork; blues and whites and purples from the Frozen picture above my desk, reds and oranges from the Desolation of Smaugs and green and gold from An Unexpected Journeys all over my room. Black and white comic-style images of X-men and an awesome wall-light in the shape of Captain America's shield. A yellow and black Hufflepuff banner hung above my bed bellow a wall mounted Katana that was functional but mainly for decoration, and a large, well-framed map of Middle Earth taking up a large chunk of wall across my bed, which was overflowing with throw pillows and stuffed animals.<p>

I loved my room. It was a bit untidy and original, perhaps even obsessive, but it was me.

I loved going to sleep each night surrounded by mementoes of things I love; curling under a red fuzzy blanket, hugging Mumu, a blue monkey my friend once bought me, and looking up at the ocean of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to my ceiling. Yes, my room was definitely "me," a reflection of my loves and passions. My own little Hobbit Hole.

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><p><strong><em>~An Unexpected Visitor<em>**

_knock knock._

I stirred and turned over. Was it my imagination?

_knock knock._

I groaned and forced myself to sit up. Rubbing my eyes, I peered at the window and out into the night. It was still dark- I was awake on Tumblr until 2am. Who could possibly be at the door this early?

_knock knock._

"Alright, alight," I whispered, mind too muddled to know they wouldn't hear me. Half-dreaming, I crept out of bed and checked my phone. It was 4:23. Hell. I wrapped the Smaug-inspired blanket throw over my shoulders and tip-toed downstairs. Aware enough to realize opening the door to a stranger would be unwise, I looked out the peephole. All I saw was gray. "Who is it?" I asked.

"Well, I would think I would be expected," a deep, male voice said from behind the door.

"That...That doesn't mean anything to me," I faltered.

"Hmph. I suppose not," he said. "Are you Natasha Blinc?"

"...Yes".

"A curious name indeed. But pleasantries can wait- I come on behalf of Thorin's company."

"Is this a joke?" I asked, opening the door, expecting to see one of my friends shivering outside. It wasn't. I blinked a few times, not quiet...registering.

"Oh! There we go, I thank you. These nights are miserable." The man stepped inside. He was tall and white, swallowed up by a gray cloak and robes and a fantastic white beard. He held a long brown staff, and wore a crooked pointed hat above his head. He casually looked about the house, taking in all he could see by the front door; the splintering staircase leading upstairs, the den to the left and dining room to the right, and the slightest sliver of a kitchen at the end of a hallway. "A lovely home, milady," he said.

I didn't say anything at first. I couldn't- I was 100% certain I had no idea what was happening. Was I dreaming? Delirious, hallucinating? I tried to find my voice, if only to see if I was really there. "G-...Gandalf?!"

"Ah! So you know me after all," the man said.

"I...what...how are you…" I tried to find words, any words at all, but found myself lost in the man's old blue eyes. His gaze was sharp and piercing, smiling and old and wise. There was no way that was any of my friends hiding under a white costume beard- the man looked...exactly like Ian Mckellen...dressed up as Gandalf from The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. But that was impossible. What the hell.

"Are you asking how I am faring on this particular day, or how I am here at all? Or perhaps why I am here to begin with, since that is a more interesting question," he asked. "For you, and a cup of something warm, I will answer all three.

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><p><em><strong>~There's a Wizard in My Kitchen<strong>_

I stood, dumbfounded, before nodding absently. "Alright," I said stupidly, then hurried for the kitchen. I stopped halfway, and asked him if I should take his coat, but he waved me off with an impish smile and followed me into the kitchen.

I flicked on the lights and watched him from the corner of my eye. I just let a strange man into my house. My parents and siblings were sleeping upstairs and he could be deranged. A serial killer, even. And i just let him into my house and into my kitchen, and I was fixing him a cup of earl gray tea. Why did I let him into my house?

He stared whimsically at the light lantern above the kitchen table, and the three miniature matching ones above the island. He sat by the table; his staff leaned against the wall beside him, and was looking around the room curiously. His eyes widened slightly when I set down a cup and saucer, his steaming drink inside, a few moments later. "It's ready so quickly?" He asked, staring down into the drink. "Marvelous. But where is your fireplace?"

I looked at him strangely. "It's...there's a fireplace in the other room, but we don't need it for hot water," I said.

He took a sip of the tea and nodded. "What a strange place."

I took a seat across from him, hiding a kitchen knife in my lap under the table. I stared at him, but he didn't seem in the mood to start talking, so I made to say something. He interrupted me.

"Patience, child. I have come a long way. There is no rush, and I would like to warm up first."

I nodded and relaxed in my chair. There was nothing else to do but watch him drink his tea.

When he finished, the man- I was still to dubious to call him Gandalf, took out a pipe. I bit my tongue while he lit it, more tired than anything else to tell him not to smoke in the house. I just wanted him to start talking. I wanted to know who he was- and, let's be honest, a small part of me wanted him to be real. A small part of me didn't want to wake up from this dream.

He sucked on his pipe and thought a moment. Finally, he said, "I am well. You are much more welcoming than a little fellow I had met earlier this morning. Though," he added, looking out the window, "this morning seems to have been yesterday, by the looks of it. How late is it here?"

"It's 4 in the morning," I said. Then, I added, "It's actually very, very early."

"Yes," he said quietly, before taking a long breath from his pipe. I watched eagerly, and to my secret delight he puffed out a little smoke ring. I wondered if he could do more than just that. "Your time here must be ahead. Very unusual. But you must know why I'm here."

I shook my head.

"Well then, that can't be true. Did you or did you not sign the contract?"

"The contract?"

"That is what I said, yes."

"Sign...the contract...noo!" The contract? Hell, is that what this is about...what?!

"No?"

"No, I mean, I did sign a contract, but-"

"Wonderful! Then, you must excuse me, you will have to be more clear about what is confusing you," he said.

"Confusing me?" I said. "Well, for starters, there's an old man dressed like a wizard in my kitchen claiming he's Gandalf."

"Why do you say I am claiming to be myself? Surly I would not pretend to be anyone other than who I am; what would the point be of doing that?"

"I...You kind of lost me...there, sir," I said.

"Pleasantries can always be a toil," he said, taking another long breath of his pipe, and blowing another smoke ring.

"Fine. If you're really Gandalf the Gray, prove it. Blow something other than a smoke ring," I said, crossing my arms. The knife still sat on my lap.

"Very well. If but to convince you, child" He sucked on his pipe again, and blew smoke from his pursed lips. But instead of a smoke ring, a small misty cat sprang from his mouth and leapt across the air. I sat there, stunned, silent. "Have I proven myself worthy of my name, child?"

"But...How?"

"How did I do that? I would think that was obvious. I am a wizard, you have said so yourself. In fact, I am quiet curious to know how you knew my name, since I have never been in these lands before." He looked around the kitchen again. "Very curious indeed. But that may wait, as time does not. Are you ready?"

"Ready? For what?"

"For an adventure, of course!"

"An adventure?"

"Yes! Young master Bilbo is waiting. If we keep much longer, he might have to greet the company without us."

"Bilbo? Company? Do you mean...Like, the Lonely Mountain? And Smaug and Thorin and the Arkenstone?" I couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Yes." Gandalf paused, his eyes boring into me. "Although I do not recall any of that in the contract. Certainly not the Dragon Smaug's name. How have you come by this information?"

"What? I...Are you serious?" Did he not know about the books?

"I do not joke over such matters, not unless all my questions are settled. Could you be a seer? A reader of the future, perhaps?"

"You could say...I'm a reader of sorts." I said, unsure what it would mean to reveal the existence of the plot to him. Then, suddenly, only just registering, "Wait, you mean you want me to go on the quest for the Lonely Mountain with you?"

"You did offer your services," he said. "But, if your mind has changed, I am in a bit of a hurry…"

"No! No, um, wait. I'm...I'll go." I stopped, surprised by what I just said. This has to be a dream. But, hell, dream or not, I was curious. I've been waiting for someone to come knocking on my door, or for a letter or a dragon egg to fall from the sky, and start my adventure, for as long as I can remember. I read the book, watched the adapted movies, I know what happens. If this turned out to be real I would kick myself for not going. "But I'm not packed yet."

"Well, hurry child. We must be on our way."

"What do I need?" I stood from the table.

"Do you have a sword? Or other preferred weapon?"

"I...Katana."

"Hm. That is hopeful. You are trained?"

"Yes. Wow, I am actually." I never would have guessed my martial arts background would be of any actual use.

"Let us hope you won't be needing it. Now then, you will need a coat, and several changes of clothing, nothing to heavy, of course, as you will be carrying it all in your satchel."

"Ok. I can be ready in ten minutes," I said.

"Very well. Off you go!"

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><p><strong><em>~Preperations<em>**

I had never packed so fast in all my life. My body worked while my mind thought about other things. I grabbed my black camping backpack and stuffed everything inside; four light shirts, two pairs of leggings and three rash guard pants, socks, underwear, two bras, deodorant, two travel-size bottles of Advil, hand sanitizer, my copy of the Hobbit and the Silmarillion, my spear-mint gum, my tooth brush and toothpaste, a handful of hygienic soaps from our complimentary-hotel-bottle collection, my hairbrush, and a random assortment of other survival-essentials that I had enough sense to grab: a self-cranking and solar powered flashlight, all-purpose pocket knife, a self-filtering water bottle, and a lighter and keychain fire starter. I took the contract from it's frame, and changed into snug black leggings, a black rash guard, my brown combat boots, and a bra. For a blanket I took my "never laugh at a live dragon" tapestry from my bed. I spent a minute deciding on which jacket to bring; I was stuck between my Hufflepuff sweatshirt and my brown leather jacket. Torn, I decided the leather jacket was more practical and tossed the hoodie aside. I removed my Tauriel cosplay from my closet (don't judge me,) and lastly climbed my bed and reached for my katana. I had just oiled it a week ago, and the sheath's intricate and stunning engravings winked at me with my bedroom light. I knew if I took it with me it would break, or be lost or taken. But I needed a weapon and my practice bamboo sticks wouldn't be much use against an Orc. So, though sentimentally and financially devastated, I took it from the wall and carefully carried it downstairs, waiting a few seconds at my bedroom door to soak in all my room had to offer one last time. I grabbed my coat pouch from the banister; stuffed inside was a super light-weight, super warm, super portable, down-stuffed coat, then snatched my mother's and younger brother's as well. Finished packing and panting slightly, I went back into the kitchen. Gandalf- gosh, it was so weird thinking of him with that name, was still smoking his pipe.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Should I wear this?" I asked, holding up my costume, "And what about my family?"

"I must agree your choice of clothing is unknown to Middle Earth," he said, thoughtful. "Very well, it seems sturdy and well crafted. And what of them? They cannot come along- this is a rough journey. You can leave a note, although time works curiously here. I imagine you could be back before sunrise."

I listened, nodded, and left for the bathroom to change. I stuffed the discarded clothing into my bag, and strapped the katana to my side. Panting, heart racing, I looked in the mirror and winced. Without makeup the skin of my nose and cheeks were oily, dotted with several faded acne scars, and colored a pallid pink ill-suited for the richness of my chestnut hair, which was fair and soft, slipping from a crude and disheveled bun I wore to sleep. My eyes were perched atop high cheekbones and were small and brown and curved like almonds. Overall I would say I looked weird...Blah. Some days I love my face and other days I hated it. I always had that healthy hydrated glow from constantly drinking water, I was fit and lean and I never needed braces. But my lips chapped easily and the skin around my mouth peeled without heaps of moisturizer and the splatter of freckles across my nose were sometimes a dark and popping contrast to my washed-out white. All in all I didn't know what to think about myself. No, you know what? I was whatever. I might not be a stunning golden ice-cream bubblegum princess but honestly, I didn't care. I looked normal, nothing less and nothing more, which was totally ok since my enthusiastic, overly-loud, and sometimes unintentionally irritating personality got me all the attention I needed. But standing there, dressed like a warrior with a sword at my side, I felt beautiful. Beautiful in a powerful, strong, tall and confident sense. My eyes shone fiercely and I felt brave. I felt ready.

I returned to the kitchen and grabbed several packages of nuts and beef jerky I found in my pantry, and forced as many as I could fit in the bag. Then, I jogged to the coat closet and riffled through my mother's pocket book. Snatching her key chain of keys, I singled out a small pill-holder and unscrewed it. Inside, instead of medication, was a key. Gandalf was watching but said nothing when I ran back up the stairs. Quietly, I sneaked into my mother's office and unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk. Inside was her handgun and a Taser. My heart drummed painfully as I removed the gun and checked its magazine. Empty. I felt like a trespassing thief as I scavenged for her holster, bullets, and batteries for the Taser. I didn't dare turn on the room's lights lest my mom wake up and notice. It took some time but eventually I found all three. Her stash of bullets was in a box in the closet under a pile of stray clothing that had no real business being there. For a cop, my mom wasn't great at hiding things. The reloading bullets were in organized, unopened containers, 100 to a box. I paused and took a moment to think. My mom had taken me shooting several times. I wasn't an ace shot- not even close. But I could hit a target. I've enough aim that missing altogether is unusual. That being said, I've only shot at paper in non-stressful situations. And who knows how long I would be in Middle Earth- I definitely didn't want to risk running out of ammunition. If Gandalf was wrong and I wasn't back before morning, and my mom found out I stole her gun and reported me missing, I would be in big stinking trouble. Not sure how good of an excuse the truth would be. But you know what, I was already screwed if caught, bringing five boxes of bullets instead of three wasn't going to make that much of a difference. Not here, anyways. Where I was going, the additional ammo could end up saving my life. Or someone else's. And besides, they weren't too heavy.

After double checking that I packed the spare batteries and the Taser, and the gun and holster were strapped securely to my thigh underneath a flap of cloth, I stood up, on instinct snatched the pepper spray sitting on my moms desk, and resolutely headed downstairs.

I looked at Gandalf, my chest burning with questions. "How did you get here, and how are we getting to Middle Earth? Is it like a different dimension or something?"

"For a young girl, you are very curious," he said. "Middle Earth is…" he hesitated, "quite some distance away. I do hope to return here one day, and learn about all these interesting little things. But that can wait, if you're ready, we can be on our way."

"Yea. I'm...I'm ready," I said.

_**And Thus Ends The Days in Brentbrook.**_

_**A Long Road Lies Ahead.**_

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><p><em>(~AN: Hi everyone! ^.^ I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and all the rest to follow! Call me Kitty. ^.^<em>

_So, I feel the need to explain the protagonist._

_I want her, her actions, and this story to be as realistic as possible. For you, and for me. ^.^ I'm living vivaciously through this story, and I want my experience (and yours as well) to be as realistic and truthful as can be. :P I'm tying my best to keep her far far away from Mary-Sue-vill._

_If you don't like/agree with something, please feel free to tell me in any way you see fit._

_~PS: I added in her katana and martial arts skills simply because I do need her to last. Without any fighting ability she would die within seconds and there would be no story. xD Her fighting background is an unfortunate Mary-Sue skill I just need her to have to keep the plot realistic. But she's not a perfect fighter. Far from it- read on and you'll soon discover that for yourselves. Enjoy! ^.^ )_


	2. Miseries are Treasures

**Chapter Two**

**Miseries are Treasures**

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><p><em><strong>~Is this not a Fairy Tale?<strong>_

Gandalf and I were walking in the woods by my house. The night was still dark and clammy, and it was very difficult to see. I was tempted to turn on my flashlight, but I didn't want to dig it out from the bottom of my backpack. Instead I relied on my ears and Gandalf, who, after I finished explaining what the cars on my street were, was silent.

"There's something I don't understand," I said.

"I am sure there are many things you do not understand," he said. "Hopefully I can help."

"Why me?"

"You signed the contract," he said.

"Yea, but I only ordered it as a decoration. I didn't...I didn't know it was, like, real."

"Why question the way fate plays."

"That sounds a bit cheap though, don't you think? I don't have any explanation for joining. Thorin's going to ask why he should let me come and I'm not going to have an answer. I have combat skills but never had to use them in a stressful, real life situation. I might very well choke or run away- I don't know how I would react to danger. I mean, sure, I imagine scenarios all the time in which I run into a burning building or shoot down a demented killer loose in the streets, but that's all in my head. Everyone does that. I don't have anything new or special to give. You already have a medic Oin, and impressive warriors. Kili's an archer, Bilbo's your burglar-"

"Listen very carefully Natasha," Gandalf said. He stopped walking and turned to face me. His eyes glinted in the moon's silver light. "I do not question your part in this journey and nor should you. It is the will of the stars." He paused, taking a deep breath. His voice was heavy and hollow...like it was filled with dust. Everytime he took a breath I could hear the air scraping down his throat. Standing by him and looking into his beard-swallowed face I realized just how ancient the wizard was, how full of historic mystery his life was. But he looked at me with vibrant blue eyes that pierced the shadows and were so very much alive. "You seem to know a great deal about the Company's goal already. Do not tell me, or anyone you meet hence forth, how you know this. Let me ask you this, Who is the king of Mirkwood?"

"Thranduil," I said.

"And what of wizards? How many are there?"

"Five. Two blue, you, radagast the brown, and Saruman," I said, pleased with myself.

"There are many in Middle Earth who do not know those things. And yet you do. This is what your service is. You are a guide, in the event I must leave the Company. Tell me this: do you know how the quest ends?"

I hesitated. "Yes. That and more."

"More, you say. Then, unless there are things you want changed, you mustn't reveal the future to me, and under no circumstances to anyone else. Where I come from, and where we are going, Thorin's quest is yet to start." He continued walking. "And still you say you know its fate. I am curious to see what happens, once you cross the threshold and for everything after."

"Do you think I will be able to change anything?"

"Are there things you think need changing?" Gandalf asked a bit harshly.

I faltered. "Not necessarily," I lied. I couldn't stop thinking about Kili and Fili, and Thorin. Maybe I could...save them. I know what happens, maybe I can find a way around their deaths, around Laketown's desolation...I'll know when Bilbo has The Ring. First I would have to see if the Middle Earth reality is more accurate to the books or to the movie adaptations. Gandalf looks exactly like Ian Mckellen from the movies, but that doesn't mean I'll meet Azog and Tauriel and all the other additions Peter Jackson made. I had my kindle with me, and on it all of Tolkien's works. I have the maps, the appendixes, the language guides, the songs. I know of the goblin caves and not to touch the spider webs. Some things might be impossible to change- if Bilbo never gets the ring then what happens? What if I get it instead? Do I want to do that? Would it be possible to destroy Sauron before anything officially starts? Am I getting in way over my head?

My thoughts were interrupted when Gandalf suddenly stopped. I looked around, squinting in the dim light. The trees looked no different- tall skeletons reaching for the sky. But...something was off. I concentrated on the surroundings, on the paved path beneath my feet and the distant hooting of an owl. Finally, i figured it out. There was no background noise of cars or electric generators. No noise of civilization at all. How far into the woods were we?

"This is where we change course. Beyond us lies a thin foot-path that will lead us...onwards." Gandalf took a deep breath and turned to me. "With every step, it will be harder to turn back. I do not know how you will fare- if you can die at all. I suggest you don't tempt fate by trying. The dwarves are reckless- you needn't be. I can, however, and will, tell you this with certainty. The person coming home will not be the same who left. You will change, for good or for worse I know not."

I stared ahead, though I couldn't see anything. It was all black. "I've been waiting for this adventure my venire life Gandalf," I said. "Though I may not be ready, I'll never be more prepared than I am now."

He chuckled. "Very well then. You have the determination I have before seen many lack. It will serve Thorin and his Company well. If that is all then, we can leave this strange world behind us. Have you ever seen an elf before?"

We trudged along, until through the dimness I could see small orange lights some distance away. "What are those?"

"Why, those are lanterns. Of all things, I did not suspect you to be astonished by that. You have fire in your world, yes?"

"Of course!" I said, slightly offended.

"But not dragons or wizards? Curious indeed."

"We have other things. We have cars. Big, metal...rooms, sort of, that you go inside and drive...Sort of like carriages, but no horses, and much faster. In a car, you can travel 75 miles in an hour."

"That is absurd," he said.

"But it's true! We also have guns- you can inflict severe damage on people from miles away. It's like archery, but doesn't need as much skill and is much more dangerous."

"Guns? What a strange name for something as deadly as you say," he said.

"There's so much more- I can tell you all about it. Can I tell the others?"

He thought a moment. "I don't see any harm in it. Although they will take yours words for fairy tales."

"I feel like I'm in a fairy tale right now," I said, flabbergasted. "But wait- the lights, er, lanterns, where do they come from?"

"The Shire! It is where we will meet our Young Master Hobbit," Gandalf said.

"You mean we're there already? We're in Middle Earth? So soon?"

"What were you expecting?"

"I dunno," I said, a little disappointed. "A portal, or like, at least I thought I would feel different or something."

"You speak very curiously. I am a wizard and yet I have never met the likes of you," he said.

"I feel like I'll fit in like a sore thumb. The culture is different here."

"You will seem intimidating, strange. In the very least the dwarves will find you entertaining."

"I still can't believe this is real. Even if i isn't, and if I'm dreaming, I hope I don't wake up," I said. I was walking next to Gandalf! It's fantastic! I was heading for the Shire! I was going to meet Kili and Fili! Like most fangirls I loved them the best. I was on my way to fight a dragon. Well, potentially. How exciting.

* * *

><p><strong><em>~Meetings Long Overdue<em>**

"Ah! My friends!" Gandalf called out. We were snaking up along the Shire pathways, heading towards the top, and eight highly diverse silhouettes came into view ahead of us. Some were fat, some were small and skinny, all of them were very short. They turned around and gave a collective jovial welcome.

"Gandalf!" One of them said.

"Thank goodness! We're lost." Another said.

"No we're not. Just keep walking up." said a third.

"Gandalf! Why did you pick such a hidden burglar?"

I felt a sudden burst of joy and grinned brilliantly. I knew who they were- I recognized their voices and hilarious outfits. It was really them, like in the movies, and I felt tears coming to my eyes. After I watched The Battle of the Five Armies I thought it was over- the Tolkien Fandom was finished. But there I was, literally standing in front of the dwarves! Not the actors in costume, but the actual characters! My heart gave a flutter when I realized I really was going to meet Kili and Fili- again, my favorites of the dwarves. I just went on a walk with Gandalf! Gandalf! It was all amazing and I was so thankful for the darkness of night. No one would see my happy tears.

"Allow me for introductions. Natasha, these here are Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Oin, Gloin, Dori, Ori and Nori. Dwarves, this is Natasha Blinc of Brentbrook. She will be a secondary guide for the Company, and has courageously pledged her loyalty to your cause."

"But she's just a little girl," Gloin said, incredulous.

"Little?" I asked, caught off guard. "Look who's-"

"Can you fight? Can you dig?" Oin asked.

"You're so young, can you hold a sword?" Bombur asked.

"I have one ri-" I tried again, but failed.

"I've never heard of Brentbrook before," Bofur said.

"She will prove very important in the journey," Gandalf said very quickly. "She has my trust. Leave the doubting to Thorin. Now, Dori was right, Master Baggins's house is just up this hill."

I stood a bit behind Gandalf outside Bilbo's Hobbit Hole. The eight dwarves were pushing and shoving to the front of the large green door, and I stared, awestruck. The blue symbol Gandalf carved into the door's wood earlier that day glowed brightly, bringing back memories of the first movie, An Unexpected Journey. My heart was beating faster and faster, and I could hear Bilbo's stressed voice shouting from inside. I knew what he was saying; he was telling us to leave. "There's nobody home. Go away, and bother somebody else. There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is." I wondered if the dwarves understood him through the door's thick wood.

Finally, the circular door was pulled back. As I expected, the seven dwarves, smushed into each other and leaning in, tumbled forwards into Bilbo's foyer. I stifled a laugh and looked up. The hobbit was a perfect Martin Freeman, and his cheek were flushed red and his shoulders heaving. Gandalf stepped forward and the dwarves clamored to their feet. A sudden attack of shyness collided into me, or perhaps an abundance of excitement. I waited for the dwarves to clear away before stepping inside and giving poor Bilbo a slight nod.

"Good evening," I said.

"There are dwarves in my home," he said, looking crushed.

"Indeed," I said, attempting to imitate their dialogue.

"12 of them," he said.

"Sorry," I felt bad for him.

He looked up at me, as if just noticing I was there. "And who might you be?"

I tried not to shuffle my feet, aware of our height difference. "Natasha. Um, of Brentbrook."

"I haven't heard of it," he said. A loud thunk came from another room and Bilbo scurried towards it. I followed hesitantly, suddenly feeling keen on observing. I mentally backtracked the storyline and realized Thorin wasn't there yet. He wouldn't be for a while- first the dwarves ate, then cleaned the dishes and sang a song. Then Thorin comes, and though I wasn't sure how long the discussion would take, I realized we wouldn't be leaving until morning. And even then it would be at least a day until we run into the cave trolls. I was pulsing with eagerness, but the next few hours would be spent sitting and talking.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Dinner with Dwarves<strong>_

Dinner with the dwarves was astounding. The scene was so short in the movie, hardly allowing any time to really see the dwarves eat. I guess it made sense that Peter Jackson didn't want it to run on for too long, but boy, was it a different experience to see them eat the entire dinner! They laughed and clanked their beer mugs against each other's. They all ate like pigs, Bombur like five pigs, and they burped and laughed even harder. They were disgusting- real, true, grimy and dirty dwarves. It was amazing.

I didn't want to intrude. Although I was itching to meet them all, I understood their excitement and gave the dwarves their space together. I did however manage to pull together a plate of food for myself, and though I offered some to Bilbo he politely refused.

I sat alone and was satisfied with just watching the dwarves. It was just like the movie, but so much more magical. It wasn't just 3D- I could reach out and touch the table and explore for myself. I wasn't limited to the angles Peter Jackson gave us and could have a real conversation with the characters all for myself. Although it just started, I felt so alive from the adventure.

"... Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl

Pound them up with a thumping pole

When you've finished, if any are whole

Send them down the hall to roll

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

I cheered, breathless from the exuberant song. Bilbo was red in the face and all the dishes were washed and dried. Everyone else was laughing, cheerful and full of life. I had joined in mid-song, stumbling on some of the lyrics but otherwise apart of their off-key ensemble. I didn't dare help them with the dishes- for sure I would have dropped one and he dwarves knew what they were doing. But I didn't think anyone noticed.

A loud and sudden knock cut through the joy in the room like butter. Everyone was quiet, and the happy atmosphere evaporated into a dark and serious mood. I felt short of breath when Bofur whispered, "he's here," and Bilbo headed for the door. Thorin. Thorin, King under the mountain, had arrived.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Service Accepted<strong>_

Thorin was welcomed with silent admiration. I could see the idolism in the dwarves eyes, Kili and Fili most of all. I stared at him, as did everyone else, but I was...slightly disappointed. He was short. I guess I didn't know what I was expecting- Thorin was a dwarf after all. He just seemed much more...demanding in the movies, probably due to camera tricks. He was still strong and powerful- oh, the lowly king simply radiated control and dominance. He was short, but his presence made up for it. "So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

All eyes turned to Bilbo. The poor hobbit seemed uncomfortable by the sudden attention. "Pardon me?"

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Thorin asked.

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant." I forced my face not to grimace. Poor Bilbo! He had no idea what was in store for him.

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar," Thorin's joke was met with laughter from the other dwarves. Then, the Dwarf king turned to me. It was in that moment I realized I couldn't rely on my movie and book knowledge to carry me through conversation. I couldn't seem out of place- this adventure would be one of particular cunningness for me. I forced my feet to stand firmly on the floor and tried not to think about how strange my clothing and backpack must seem to them all. "And what of you? I was unaware a girl would be joining us, Gandalf."

The wizard cleared his throat. "Ah, yes, I suppose she did slip my mind." Now the attention was on me, and some of the dwarves stared at me curiously, as if just noticing me for the first time. "Thorin, and Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, and Bilbo Baggins, may I introduce Natasha Blinc of Brentbrook. Natasha, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror."

Before I could think, I knelt down and bowed my head to Thorin. "It is an honor to meet and be in your service," I said.

"What is your weapon?" He asked, unabashed.

I stood to my full composure and answered honestly. "I have tricks, and have trained with the sword."

"Is this the service you give to my Company?" He seemed unimpressed.

I paused, looking at Gandalf, and decided what role I would play in this adventure. "I have a gift."

The other dwarves responded with sudden interest. "A gift?" Thorin asked. "Of what sort?"

"I am a Reader. A Seer and Perceiver. I know things without a source and see things others cannot. I can look at a man and sometimes tell you who he is and where he's been, I can look at a map and tell you where we need to go without knowing a destination, and sometimes I can see the future. I know things of Middle Earth most do not dare to"

"Gandalf?" Thorin asked, unbelieving. "I am in no mood for games."

"It's tricky business," I quickly interjected, "and not always reliable, but I can prove it to you."

The group of dwarves started whispering amongst themselves excitedly. "Silence!" Thorin demanded, and the dwarves stopped at once. "Very well then, Natasha, prove to me your gift and I will accept your service."

I stared at him and tried desperately to think. How could I prove myself without giving anything forbidden away? I thought about Kili's talisman, but I didn't want to risk it- that was all added by Peter Jackson, and I wasn't certain enough that it was reliable. I would have to figure that out, actually- the movie is very different from the book, very, very different, and it was important to know which of the two this reality followed. Instead, I looked at Gandalf, and though I didn't want to, I had no other option. "Gandalf has come with knowledge of an entrance into Erebor, a hidden door accessible only to those with the key; a key Gandalf seems to have brought with him."

Stunned silence, until, "Gandalf, is this true?" Thorin asked.

The wizard nodded. "I was waiting for us all to be seated to tell you. Her gift is true, her eyes are clear."

Thorin turned to face me again. "Very well then, I accept your service into my company."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~The Bond of Brothers<strong>_

"_Far over the misty mountain cold_

_to dungeons deep and caverns old"_

A chill crept up my spine as they sang. All but several small candles were blown out; their flames licked the shadows with a slow, ominous rhythm. All our faces were cast in ghostly darkness but the eyes, which shone fiercely in the candlelight and looked beyond Bilbo's living room walls towards a treasure hidden behind a veil growing ever thinner. The Dwarves' voices were low and rich, some singing the words while others hummed, the intertwining sounds shifting the tune like the swaying of a rowboat. It wasn't peaceful nor was it savage. It was between the two, in perfect harmony of light and heavy. A ferocious serenity. The song was beautiful and binding and heavy on the shoulders.

_We must away ere break of day_

_To seek the pale enchanted gold._

_The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,_

_While hammers fell like ringing bells_

_In places deep, where dark things sleep,_

_In hollow halls beneath the fells._

I couldn't sing along for the full version had verses omitted from the movie. Still, I listened, leaning on the doorway, staring intently at the room. The Dwarves were strange. They were a people of great festivity and vivaciousness, so jovial and jocular in their celebrations to the likes I rarely see in the people back home. But they were also intense; in a second their merriment can be switched for seriousness of the greatest severity. They were warriors and celebrators, fighters and singers. And the Dwarves in the room had lived through dark lives, homeless and kingdomless. They shared a special bond of suffering together. To call them friends and even family seemed an understatement. I was at a loss for defining that rigorous and mighty rope that tied them together. Perhaps, for lack of anything better- they were a shoulder-sharing group. Brothers of loss and war.

_For ancient king and Elvish lord,_

_There many a gleaming golden hoard_

_They shaped and wrought, and light they caught_

_To hide in gems on hilt of sword._

_On silver necklaces they strung_

_The flowering stars, on crowns they hung_

_The dragon-fire, in twisted wire_

_They meshed the light of moon and sun._

_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To claim our long-forgotten gold._

I turned around to see Bilbo sitting in a chair, his head in his hands. I quietly went to join him. The Dwarves' voices floated through the rooms. I sat on the floor beside Bilbo's chair and he looked up at me.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

"How can I be? I'm being asked to steal from a 'furnace with wings,'" he said, quoting Bofur, then moaned.

"You won't be made to go against your will. If you do not want to go, the Dwarves will leave and forget about you soon," I said.

"I do not know what I want," he admitted. "I am torn."

"It seems to me like you have already decided, then."

"What do you mean?"

"You are a Hobbit. You live in a Hobbit Hole away from thrill and danger and noise. You read books and live a peaceful life, and are satisfied with it. If you are torn between adventure and the comforts of the Shire, if you are really agonizing over saying no, then I think actually you want to say yes and are agonized by that."

He looked at me for several moments, pondering, then admitted, "I am afraid I will miss my home and regret joining you the moment I leave."

"Oh, of course you will," I said. I wasn't going to lie to him. I read the book. "In fact, I know that throughout most of the journey all you will want is your teapot and your books and your armchair. You will lie on the hard ground or sharp rocks and wish for your bed, you will eat the stale food and long for your pantry, you will shiver and sniffle and hurt all over, and you'll regret going many times."

"Are you trying to scare me away?"

"I'm telling you it will be miserable," I said.

"Then why are you going?"

"Because miseries like those are treasures. I've never felt that type of misery before. I've never slept on grass and woken up wet and cold from dew, or beneath an open sky of stars. I've never felt true hunger before or extreme exhaustion in my legs or feared for my life. I've never felt the adrenalin of battle and I want to. When you live in a place of comfort, you forget how big the world really is. You stop working and never gain a thing. To experience the misery of an adventure, and to share that suffering with others, you find yourself, and when you catch yourself smiling amid those hardships, you learn that it isn't the comforts that make you happy. Yes, they help, but on adventures like these you'll see that the happiness you feel from the magnificence of the nature around you or the delight of your companions is much more true than any happiness you will feel here. You will form bonds with these dwarves, they will be brothers to you and their friendship will outshine all the hardship and misery, and if you knew now how you will feel then, you would not hesitate in coming with us."

"I'm not a burglar," he said.

"No, you are not. But you will be."

"How can you say that?" he asked.

"Because I've seen it. _I've seen you_."

He didn't say anything after that, and the Dwarves finished their song. It was late, and we were looking at an early morning. The Dwarves started to unroll their bed spreads. Thorin, and maybe others, found spare bedrooms. I was satisfied with the carpeted floor, so I pulled out my "never laugh at a live dragon" tapestry and curled up. I don't know how long it took to finally fall asleep- I was overrun with anticipation. Eventually, though, I think I managed it, because as suddenly as this whole adventure started, it was morning.


	3. Brentbrook can Fly

**Chapter Three**

**Brentbrook can Fly**

* * *

><p><strong><em>~Gambling<em>**

We knocked on Bilbo's bedroom door twice, but he never answered. He might have been asleep or intentionally ignoring us, and the consensus was to leave. We ate a short and small breakfast of leftover food and packed up our things. I was unsure I would have a pony to ride since my joining was unplanned, and was happy to find one waiting for me. Outside, the sun had just broken from the sky and everything was cast in pale pink and golden light. The Shire was quiet and sleeping. We left the Hobbit Hole, down the green hills and onwards towards adventure.

After some minutes of riding Bofur's voice rang out. "I say ten minutes."

"Until what?" Bombur asked.

"Until Bilbo comes running after us," I answered for him.

"I...Yes. You _are_ good," Bofur said, impressed.

"You willing to wager on that?" Dwalin asked.

"Alright. Three coins," Bofur said.

"Where is your adventurousness?" Fili asked. "I say ten or nothing."

"Agreed," Kili said.

"Fine, all for Bilbo joining?" Bofur asked.

"Aye," said Kili and Fili, Ori, Bifur, and Balin and Gandalf together.

"And who will bet against?"

"Me," said Dwalin, Dori and Nori, Gloin and Bombur. Thorin and Oin didn't bet.

"Alright, everyone give me your gold," Bofur said.

"I don't have any gold, but I say yes as well. I have other things to offer, should I be wrong," I said, unsure if they would let me. I felt like taking part was a form of cheating, but I didn't have any money at all and it made me feel vulnerable.

"Alright," Bofur said, already holding a pile of gold on his lap.

"Wait! If she says he will come, I change my mind and agree," Bombur said.

"You can't do that!" Kili said. "It is cheating."

"And you already gave your gold," Fili said.

"Oh, let him switch," Gandalf said.

"Alright then," Bofur said, and he started counting the coins.

I smiled as the gambling was finished and the group broke off into separate conversations. The Shire finally fell away behind us, the lush hills and bountiful fields changing to wild thickets and tall trees. Sunlight broke through the leaf canopies in patches of gold, and frequently a blur of red or yellow or blue flew between the branches. Everything else was either green or brown or a seedy yellow, save for the wild flowers. It was a forest like any other, nothing magical, but much fuller than the one by my house as no trees were chopped down or interrupted with houses.

Fili and Kili were ahead of me, chatting together. Watching them joke and laugh, I found it hard to compare them to their uncle Thorin, who was proud and stern. I felt differently for the two of them, as did most others I assumed. Fili was the heir, the prince, constantly trained by Thorin for responsibility and rule. He was expected to behave rationally and with dignity, while Kili was the younger brother, to Fili and really the rest of the group as well. Less was expected of him and so he could act recklessly and brashly with little judgment. In the movies Kili was usually the first in the fight with Fili close behind. Kili was also usually in some trouble, like caught in a spider's clutch or pierced in the calf by an arrow. He acted courageously but sometimes stupidly, and Fili always stayed close to protect him. I loved them both.

How weird it was to be riding right behind them. I wanted to talk to them, but what could I say?

"M'ilady?" One of the dwarves from behind me spoke.

I turned around. It was Balin. I smiled. "You may call me Natasha," I said.

"Natasha," he bowed his silver head. "I was curious about your home town, Brentbrook, you said. I am familiar with maps but not with that name."

"Oh," I said, caught off guard by the question. I had thought about what story I would give for myself, since obviously the truth wouldn't be believed. I made a split second decision. "It is very, very far away. So far, in fact, that I was very surprised when Gandalf came knocking on my door. Magic, though heard of, is scarce in my land. So scare, many believe it a myth. I doubt you would find it on any map here."

"What is it like? What types of people live there?" He asked.

"Only the race of man, I'm afraid. Actually, there are people so short they are called dwarves, though they are more like Hobbits I think, and they are born very rarely. No Elves at all, and definitely no Wizards or Orcs or Dragons. No intelligent monsters of any kind, besides for ourselves."

"None at all?" Bofur asked. I looked at him and realized more of the Dwarves were listening now.

"Nope. Which means any war is against our own kind. I imagine you can kill an orc and feel no guilt; it is not the same where I am from. And we do not fight with swords or axes. While we lack the skills that define each of your races, there is one thing we have that makes up for it all."

"And that is?" Oin asked, readjusting his hearing trumpet.

"Science. Advanced, developed, and incredibly sophisticated science. Science so great you would think it was magic."

"Give us examples," Kili said.

"What do you have that we do not?" Fili asked, curious.

"Airplanes," I said automatically. I didn't even have to think- It was something I was eager to talk about. "They are metal contraptions that fly in the sky. Here, if you are lucky, you might convince a giant eagle to fly you, but airplanes are not sentient. They are built and flown completely by man. There are some meant for travel, hundreds of miles covered in but a few hours. Some are very large and long, capable of holding a few hundred people and anyone can pay to ride it. Some are built for war, and they have dangerous weapons that can shoot fire or deadly metal pieces."

"I don't believe it," Gloin said. "It sounds to fantastic to be real."

"How do they work?" Balin asked.

"I cannot say. That is, I do not know. They are very complicated and only someone who has studied the mechanics for a long time can build or fly one."

"Flying, in the sky! It sounds wonderful," Kili said.

"And dangerous," Fili said.

"They are very safe actually. At least, the ones meant for travel. They are called commercial flights and there are hundreds of them each day. There is maybe a plane crash only once a year, but I do not know any specifics."

"Airplanes instead of dragons," Kili said.

"Again, I say hogwash," Gloin said.

"It is still a fascinating idea," Balin said.

"I have many more." I said. Gandalf was right- the Dwarves weren't going to believe anything I said. All of our modern technology would seem impossible to them. They probably saw Brentbrook as a fiction town created by me. I felt like that wise old storyteller that everyone loves to listen to. "My mind is a library of inventions and stories."

"An overactive imagination," Gloin said.

"I would not have thought of it," Oin said.

"What else?" Bofur asked, and the Dwarves looked at me eagerly. I was about to explain cellphones when a small voice shouted for us from behind.

* * *

><p>(AN~My friend *shout out* Avret helped me do the calculations and it's about a ten-fifteen day journey until they reach Rivendell, so until then and the Cave Trolls it's really just going to be character development. ^.^ )<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>~The Noise of Dwarves<strong>_

I counted my gold greedily. There were 40 coins in the pot, distributed evenly to the eight winners. That meant we each only got 5, but it was still better than nothing. I was so happy to see Bilbo, not just because of the money but because I was so proud of him. I knew the storyline and wasn't surprised he came, but seeing him agonize over the decision in person was much more concerning than from a screen. I spoke to him, I even might have helped him reach the decision- would that make sense? No, wait, he would have come even if I didn't speak to him. But what if the story can change? I'm in it now, perhaps my mere presence can influence differences and alterations from the original plot. Again, the idea of saving Kili and Fili, and Thorin to, popped up in my head and I grew excited. How wonderful that would be- I never cried so hard by a movie than I did at Battle of the Five Armies.

But then again, what if I can't save them? Before, they were just characters to me, and still I felt connected to them and devastated by their death. I was known in my school for obsessing over "fandoms", for arguing passionately about Neville Longbottom being the bravest and most heroic of all the Gryffindors and fuming about how annoying Ron Weasley was to my friends in the hallway, for...excessively criticizing a teacher and classmate when they said Desolation of Smaug was an awful movie, for plastering my locker with pictures from Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit, The Avengers and Teen Wolf, for crying in the girls bathroom over Kili and Fili's untimely deaths. I'm an actor and a writer. I bring characters to life, either in the school plays or in my own stories. I can create people with words and any character that is well acted or written or portrayed becomes real to me. They feel like real live actual people who really exist, and in most cases it is so, so painful. I grow close to them and then the book ends, and I have nothing more of them, or they die and I feel both my pain and any other characters' for the loss. I have a talent for becoming infatuated with characters and I can't control it.

The death of the characters Kili and Fili was heartbreaking for me. If I get close to them, here, now, as real people and not storybook characters, and it turns out I still can't save them in the end, how would I ever recover?

The thoughts drowned me. But then I looked up. I saw the trees, growing ever thicker, spines tall as small mountains and leaves illuminated in the broad daylight. Through gaps in the forest canopy I saw slivers of a sky of the brightest blue. Birdsong called out from above and the crunching of leaves and snapping of sticks covered the air as wild mice and rabbits scuttled across the fresh ground. At first I could only hint at it- we rode in a forest like any other and yet there was something so heartwarmingly pure about it. It was like the whispers of wind on leaves cast a spell on me. I was a track runner, a hiker, an adventurer, and yet I had never seen a clearer or more enchanting forest.

"What do you marvel at?"

I tore my eyes from the tree-filled sky to see Fili, with Kili beside him. "Does it not fill you with wonder?" I asked.

"The trees? They are like any others." Fili said.

"Are there trees in Brentbrook?" Kili asked. I recognized his tone of sarcasm, so subtle that had I not heard him speak before I wouldn't have noticed. I...liked it.

"Of course there are," I said. "But none like these."

"How are they different?" Fili asked. Him and Kili were the only ones listening, the other dwarves in conversation with each other.

"The woods are full of noise there. Awful noises, unnatural and of the make of man," I said. I was really getting into this different dialogue. It was fun, speaking like the people of Middle Earth. It added to the experience and made me feel...stronger, if that made any sense. It helped connect me to the historic setting, making me more of a native than an intruder. "Here it is more peaceful."

"You call this peaceful?" Killi looked at a cluster of Dwarves behind us. Bofur and Ori were being particularly rambunctious, laughing belly-rich and merry laughs that disturbed the serenity of the forest. Kili didn't sound critical, but pointed them out with a faint smile playing at his lips. I would assume him and Fili loved the sound of jolly Dwarves. It was home to them.

"You Dwarves laugh differently than the people of Brentbrook. As I said before, there are no Dwarves there, and so I do not find your Company obnoxious at all."

"Well now, that is a surprise," Fili said, smiling. "You know when I first saw you, I thought you were an Elf."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes. You are tall and lean, and were brought by Gandalf. I thought, it would make sense- If Gandalf were to have an Elf join the Company, he would do so when we are just about to leave. No time for argument, the group would be anxious to start, it would be the cleverest time."

"So what gave me away?"

"We couldn't see up your nose," Kili said.

"What does that mean?" I asked honestly.

"You know, Elves think they are better, so they stick their noses in the air," Kili said, demonstrating. He gave me a look of supreme pretentiousness.

I laughed. "Is that really it?"

"Your ears gave it away," Fili said. I nodded. "And besides, Gandalf would know Thorin would refuse to ride in the company of Elves."

"Are they really that bad?" I asked, out of curiosity for their answer. I myself was eager to reach Rivendell. No, more than eager. I couldn't even describe the intense ferocity I felt whenever I thought about actually walking through the Elven kingdom. I considered this forest magical and it was nothing unordinary. Rivendell though...Like Anna once said, "I don't know if I'm elated or gassy, but I'm somewhere in that zone."

"Terrible things, Elves," Kili said. "They are unnaturally tall, and pasty, walking around thinking they are elegant when really they are like paper dolls."

Fili smiled. "That is what you say aloud."

"What are you saying?" Kili looked horrified.

I couldn't help but laugh, but then the statement crashed into me like a wave and sent reverberations coursing through my mind and heart. Kili had no idea what heartbreaking tragedy lay in store for him. Here he was, speaking with his brother Fili on a pony in the sun, smiling, joking, so utterly alive. Kili and Fili continued to bicker and I could only stare at them, and notice how animated their voices were. I had never experienced a close death in my life back at home and so the experience was entirely lost on me. Kili and Fili were young and jovial and deserved to remain talking forever. It was then, at that completely ordinary moment, that I made up my mind to change this story. I had until Rivendell to decide how to do that, to figure out what measures had to be taken to ensure their survival, to decide how far I was willing to go. I had time. And I was going to make sure they got it to.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Decisions of Change<strong>_

Being in the company of the Dwarves and a crackling fire eased the pain of the cold. Nighttime's chill air clawed at my cheeks, and I regretted not bringing a ski mask. With one I would have looked beyond bizarre to the Dwarves, but its warm protection would have been worth it. The cold was beneficial for one thing. The day was uneventful and lazy, as we only rode the ponies, but because the autumn air was cool I didn't sweat at all. I had a limited amount of hygenics and clean clothing, and the longer I could make each shirt last the better. I was thankful for Tauriel's cosplay outfit- with it I fit in a little more with the world, and my gun was safely hidden from view.

I snuggled under the wrappings of a blanket beneath the awning of a small cave's mouth. Kili and Fili were there as well. Most of the dwarves were already asleep and so they talked together quietly. Dinner was crude, but filling nonetheless. I was depending on convincing Elrold to give us Lembas bread, and so I wasn't as sparing with my trail mix as I should have been. I nibbled quietly as my attention switched from Kili and Fili to the expanse of stars above. Brentbrook was a suburban neighborhood away from city light, and so there were usually a pretty collection of stars in its nighttime sky. But here…It was...fantastic, breathtaking. I had never seen such a stellar and magnificent starlit sky in all my life.

Gandalf was awake as well, sitting a bit beyond the fire's reach, smoking his pipe. I quietly stood up. Kili and Fili, who were playing with stones and sticks from the fire, looked up. "I must ask Gandalf something," I muttered. Careful of the sleeping Dwarves by my feet, I crept towards the resting Wizard without incident.

He looked up and smiled at me. "Natasha of Brentbrook. How are you faring?"

"Well enough," I answered, tugging on my hand gloves. "But there is something I am curious about."

"Of course there is!" Gandalf chuckled. "Go on."

I looked over cautiously to the Dwarves. Kili and Fili were busy with the fire. I knew Thorin was a light sleeper- any minute now Bilbo would wake up to a loud noise beyond and a moment of Orc-panic would wake most of them up. I didn't know how long I had until then, so I crouched and leaned in. "How much longer to Rivendell?" I whispered.

Gandalf stood rigid, and then eased his shoulders and laughed quietly. "You have managed to amaze and surprise an old Wizard," he said. "Ten days, I would say, assuming we've traveled around six leagues today."

"How much is left ahead of us?"

"120, if I am not mistaken," he said. I must have looked aghast, because he chuckled and said, "do not look so disheartened, Mistress Natasha. We cannot run around cutting down orcs every day. This is what adventuring is. Our days will be mostly spent with travel."

"That is disappointing," I said honestly. Peter Jackson always cut right to the action, skipping over the boring and eventless traveling. It had been a year since I read the book; ten entire days! The anticipation to step into the golden light of Rivendell was suffocating.

"Do not tell the Dwarves, but in five days time I will continue ahead to warn Lord Elrond of the intrusion. I can assume you know of him?"

Elrond? Heck yea. I nodded and felt my chest squirm. I was so damn excited. "I know enough. But Gandalf you must hurry back quickly. Our Company will run into trouble." I wondered what would happen if I warned the dwarves beforehand about the cave trolls? I know the conflict happens the night Gandalf disappears, so I can now prepare with a set date in mind. Maybe we could tie up the horses...Does it happen right after Gandalf leaves? Or two days after? I didn't predict this temporal issue when the journey started. I've been so caught up in The Hobbit films, I completely forgot the adventure's timeline. I know first we bump into the cave trolls, then into Rivendell, possible fleeing from a pack of Thorin-hungry orcs, then down into "Goblin Town" in the Misty Mountains. But how much time lapses in between?

"Trouble? Very well them, I will not stay long. And, Natasha, I should advise you to determine your place before we reach Rivendell. Whether you reveal yourself to Elrond or not isn't of my concern, however you should be wary."

"I have been struggling since before Bywater, Gandalf," I admitted. "There are things I might tell you, a story only beginning to unravel within the folds of this Company's adventure. It is a sad tale but ends with light. Should I warn you of oncoming dangers, I do not know what would change, and it could be that it ends in failure and death." I was tempted to warn him of Saraumon at least, but I bit my tongue. If the future holds true to the films and Gandalf meets with Galadriel, Saromuan and Elrond, maybe...with all four there...If I can manage to convince them of the urgency of the Company and the Ring...So many things could be changed. The entire journey to the Lonely Mountain might be compromised. We could travel to Gondor, destroy the ring and the threat of Sauron before it becomes prominent. But Thorin wouldn't be likely to abandon his quest now, and I could never do it alone. It was Gandalf who pushed Thorin to start this mission, so maybe Gandalf can steer him away. But if everything changes...my skills would no longer be relevant. The plot line would be screwed up and I wouldn't be able to predict anything. Oh gosh. What the hell was I going to do?

"Then say nothing," Gandalf said, "until you think otherwise. If what you say is true and all ends well, then there isn't a substantial reason to change anything."

"People are going to die, Gandalf," I said as forcefully as I could under my breath.

"This will sound harsh, but that is what people do. If you set out to alter time, you risk lives who would prevail otherwise."

I was about to answer when a distant scream bellowed in the night air. Surprised, I perked up and scanned the treetops beyond the cliff overview. I could see nothing. Bilbo was standing by his horses, his shoulders high and stiff. "What was that?" he asked.

"Orcs," said Kili. Another wail from beyond the darkness pierced the night. I winced, and at the word Thorin awoke instantly, reaching for his Oakwood shield branch. I knew the threat was far away, but hearing the inhuman howls sent chills down my spine. I would be meeting them soon; they were hunting us.

"Orcs?" Bilbo squeaked.

"Throat-cutters," Fili said. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours," Kili added, "when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood."

I shivered, and Bilbo lookout out into the night frightfully. How could they speak of Orcs so casually? My hand dropped to the hilt of my katana. I didn't draw it, but it's presence made me feel protected. Safer. I realized Bilbo didn't have a weapon of any kind yet. The yet-to-be infamous Sting is hiding somewhere ahead beneath a covering of spiderwebs and cave dust.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin asked viciously. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" His face was cast in grey shadow, a flickering ghost beyond the fire's orange glow.

"We didn't mean anything by it,' Kili said.

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world," Thorin stood and turned his back to the group, staring off into the valley beneath the cliff. I stepped forward into the firelight and felt my adrenaline calming down. All was quiet.

I glanced at Kili. He looked like a wounded puppy, kicked by his owner. I was heart breaking, because the point of Kili and Fili as characters, though especially Kili, was that they _didn't_ know anything of the world. They were warriors but they were not survivors. They could never possible feel the gaping absence of Erebor that weighs down of Thorin every day. They are the youngest of the Dwarven Company and Kili feels a need to prove himself. He is reckless because he doesn't quiet understand the intensity of war. I didn't either, of course, but I've seen the movies. I know Middle Earth isn't a playground. Every step must be tread carefully, ever choice made has potentially dire consequences. Orcs are disgusting filthy beasts, and their ever present threat isn't a joke.

"Don't mind him, laddie," Balin said. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first"

Balin began the thrilling tale of Thorin, and the taking of Erebor. I made my way along the rocks to an empty space wide enough for me to sleep. I crouched down and winced from the chilled stone ground. It was no bed. But I had gone camping before. My dad and I never wandered from the trail, so our hikes were no exciting adventures, and we had sleeping bags, but I had enough experience with rough flooring that this occasion wasn't much different.

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler," Balin dove right into the heat of the battle. I curled up and listened. So Azog was in this after all. I was relieved, because not only did the Hobbit films have more information I could reference, but I also knew them a lot better. Heck, those movies, and Lord of the Rings, were my life.

"The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King." I listened as Balin told Thorin's tragic tale, eventually wandering off into a dreamless sleep.

_**And Thus Ends the First Day of Natasha's Adventure**_


	4. Real Interaction

_(~AN: enjoy these little scenes! ^.^ )_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

**Real Interaction**

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Hunting Rabbit<strong>_

The sun came and rose into the sky like a flower. My back was sore and my shoulders, stone. The dwarves were slow to rise, and Thorin charged Kili and Fili to hunt breakfast. As they gathered their equipment Fili invited me to join them.

"Natasha, come with us. We have spent all of yesterday riding."

I was thrilled that Fili and Kili wanted me to come along, so obviously I couldn't refuse. We left the campsite with little disturbance and scanned the vast forest space beyond us. The golden daylight only just tipped the trees, and the cool air of night was still ever present. We had to be quick, for Thorin wanted to continue on soon.

"What will we hunt for, brother?" Kili asked.

"Rabbits. They are small and quick to cook," Fili answered.

"Quick to run, also," I muttered. I had warned them on the way I was no good at hunting. I had said something along the lines of, "Back in Brentbrook we don't need to hunt ourselves," however they waved it aside.

"Worry not, thine young prince is far faster than any hare," Kili said, bowing low. Fili kicked him and I laughed.

"And almost as hairy," I said. That time we all laughed.

We spread out, creeping as quiet shadows. I was searching for any sign of morning life when I heard the distant twang of Kili's bow. I didn't dare ask out if he hit anything. You don't shout when hunting, I know that much. So instead I let my curiosity linger and continued looking. The earth was strewn with fallen twigs and I was careful to avoid each one. I crouched, low and still, and listened. That's how they did it in the movies- you hear the wild game, not see it. After several moments I heard Kili release another arrow and decided waiting for a rabbit to make noise was stupid. I wasn't a hunter. I couldn't tell a rabbit's footsteps from any other woodland noise. So I stood up and squinted at the ground. I didn't blink and my eyes started to sting- I was trying really hard. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement- Fili flicked a small knife beyond my line of sight.

Dammit, they were going to win. No, there was no competition, but I really wanted to prove my worth. If I can't manage to catch a rabbit then surely I wouldn't be expected to last in a fight. Hell. Why couldn't Middle Earth just have grocery stores every five miles?

I saw something. At the base of a near tree, a brown little fur-ball perked it's head up. My heart squeezed. It was unbelievably cute. But it was food- I couldn't afford to be taken in by every adorable thing I met. I had to be ruthless, a lioness with a bloody jaw. I crept forward, slowly and low to the ground. My katana was unsheathed and I held it out before me. I was a feline beast ready to pounce- if it leapt from my reach my katana would slice it through.

But damn it was such a sweetie. The rabbit turned it's head and I knew I was going to chicken out. I heard a third twang of Kili's bow and held back a curse. I couldn't do this- but I couldn't shy away from a hunt. I was apart of Thorin's Company. I was on my way to accidentally wake a raging dragon. I was going to be a warrior, and I could kill a little bunny.

I lunged forward. The rabbit started. Time slowed down and for a second I actually thought I had it. For a split second I was beyond proud with myself. I overcame my reservations and was about to catch my game on the first try! In that moment I was awesome.

And then the rabbit jumped away. And I hit the ground. "Ah, dammit."

"I value your effort, but that isn't how you hunt," Fili said, coming up behind me.

"Funny, I thought that is exactly how it is done," I replied.

"Fili! I've caught five!" Killi called out from behind an expanse of trees. "And two squirrels."

"Excellent!" Fili called back.

I sat up and wiped the mud off my cheek. "I don't know why, I thought it would be easier." I was really embarrassed. There I was with two strong warriors, and I couldn't even catch a weak little rabbit. I felt the gun against my thigh and sighed. I would have been able to shoot it, easily. But wasting bullets on game, especially with able hunters around, was beyond idiotic.

"A skilled swordsman does not mean a successful hunter," Fili said, as Kili emerged from behind the bushes. Tossed across Kili's arms and shoulders were the animals he caught, tied together with string. Their blood smeared his jacked and stained the ground, and suddenly I was pleased I couldn't catch anything myself.

"Any luck?" Kili asked, grinning.

"Was there ever a doubt?" I asked, standing up and wiping the dirt from my tunic. I pushed a strand of stray hair from my face and smiled. "Actually, it was I who fell, not the rabbit."

Kili laughed. "I can see that. And you, brother?"

Fili pointed behind him, where sat a small pile of rabbit and squirrels bleeding onto a pile of leaves. "Our Company will not go hungry this morning."

"How long do you think it will be until we are sent hunting again?" I asked, dubious that a collection of such small animals could satisfy such fat dwarves.

"No more than two hours, I imagine," Fili said, smiling.

"Bombur will eat the whole lot himself if we are not careful," Kili said.

"He's eaten an entire horse before," Fili told me.

"All by himself," Kili added. "A horse, we kid you not."

"That's…" I searched for words as we started to head back. "fantastic."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Bandobras the Bullroarer<strong>_

When no one was looking I brought out my box of spearmint gum. I had to ration it- it was of the many irreplaceable items in my backpack. I had twelve strips, and I would limit myself to no more than a half a piece a day. That already was to much. I guessed it would be the first of my supplies to run empty. I was also being very careful with my toothpaste and hand sanitizer. I might be on an adventure but I'm not adjusted to the germs of Middle Earth. I was out on the road and probably wouldn't have a legitimate washing until Rivendell. And I had to say, Dwarves smell _bad._

Greedily, I tore away ¼ of the strip of gum and put the rest back. It tasted divine- it's minty freshness like fireworks in my mouth. Day one was over, and I had made it half way past day two. The hours trickled by slowly, like a clogged river. I spent most of my time with Kili and Fili, or else Bilbo or Gandalf. Poor Bilbo- you could tell just by looking at him how homesick he was. And I felt bad; I always thought Kili and Fili were the ones to warm up to him first, along with Gandalf and maybe Bofur. And now I felt like I was monopolizing them.

A sudden and terrifying thought occurred to me. I looked over my shoulder at Bilbo, who rode alone silently. I knew for a fact Bilbo regretted joined the Company often- at one point, after experiencing the golden Rivendell, he even tried to leave. Even after his heroism with the cave trolls, and bonding with several of the Dwarves, Bilbo didn't feel welcome. Now that I was there, gaining most of the attention Bilbo would have otherwise received, would he want to quit sooner? The only thing that stopped him in An Unexpected Journey was the floor beneath his feet. He tumbled down into the Goblin dungeon with the Company, excluding Gandalf, before he could leave the campsite cave. And that was when he found the ring, played Riddles in the Dark with Gollum. If he left beforehand, the entire storyline basically vaporizes into dust. Thorin might take back Erebor but without the Ring in Frodo's possession, who knew what would happen? It would remain within the depths of the Misty Mountains, perhaps to one day be found by Orcs. It had become clear to me that this Middle Earth followed the films. Some speeches were literally word for word with the script. That meant Sauron was rising. Now. If Bilbo doesn't find the ring Sauron will dispatch gruesome beasts to do it for him. He would find it, and Middle Earth would be lost.

So much depended on that little Hobbit staying away from home.

I stopped my pony until Bilbo caught up. He looked up at me, surprised. I could see wariness in his face and boredom in his eyes. But he smiled at me, reminding me how utterly polite the fellow was. "Natasha," he nodded his head in greeting. "A lovely day, is it not?"

"I want to apologize," I said without warning.

"Apologize? Whatever for?"

"I feel that I might have played the slightest role in convincing you to join us. I spoke of friendships yet to be bound, and here I feel I have failed you."

"You haven't failed me," he said, sounding very genuine.

"Well, I want you to feel welcome. We are all together now, facing the perils of this journey arm in arm. It is impossible not to bond over an experience like this."

"Thank you, very much Natasha. It is very kind of you."

"Do you consider yourself any bit more Took-ish than you did before?"

Bilbo smiled. "I am the same person who left Bagend."

"You won't be for long, you know." I teased.

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I mean this adventure will change you!" An image flashed in my mind; an ecstatic Bilbo running from his Hobbit Hole, jumping over crops and fences, brandishing his signed contract in the air and shouting to his wide-eyed neighbors "I'm going on an Adventure!" It pained me that I wasn't there to see it happen in real life. That scene was undoubtfully one of my favorites of the entire trilogy. It was the first time the audience saw Bilbo as a Took, instead of a Baggins. His smile was genuine and his heart longing for thrill. It was that moment that made me fall in love with Bilbo; Bilbo, and the entire trilogy. I would have loved the movies anyways; anything Tolkien I considered intimate. But when Bilbo tosses away the comforts of home and runs head on into the ocean of infinite possibilities, when he makes that split second decision and shouts to anyone willing to listen that he was doing it, he was going on an adventure, _an adventure,_ something beyond the minds of ordinary Hobbits, I felt it. I felt personally connected to Bilbo. I projected myself into his shoes and claimed his passion and thrill-seeking as my own. Looking at Bilbo now, alone and aghast without his handkerchief, I wanted nothing more than to help push him further into his Took-ish blood.

"You will see," I said, smirking. "Have you any stories of your Great Grand Uncle? Bandobras Took?" I knew that Gandalf used the acclaimed "Bullroarer" to convince Bilbo he was meant for the Journey. Perhaps, if I got Bilbo to talk about him, it would help him to realize being a Took wouldn't be all that bad.

"Bandobras? Did Gandalf tell you about him?"

"Of course not! I know things, do not forget it," I said, winking.

"Very well," Bilbo waved the question aside. "Although I will say your stories are much more interesting."

"Nah-uh," I said. "Or, a story for a story."

"A trade? Alright then. Let me think a moment." Bilbo squinted up at the trees. "Hm. How well are you on Middle Earth's history?"

I imagined the Simillarion sitting at the bottom of my back pack. It had been several years since I read it, but still. "I know my fair share."

"The Battle of Greenfields?" Bilbo asked.

I thought a moment, deciding what would be best to say. Of course I knew what it was. It was an Orc invasion of the Shire, and where Bandobras made the Took legacy. But I wasn't from Middle Earth- that battle wouldn't be relevant to a Seer's ability. And I wanted Bilbo to remember the story. "The name is not familiar."

Bilbo looked pleased with himself. "Well then, perhaps I _can_ teach you something. The Battle of Greenfields was a nasty business. An army of Orcs from the Misty Mountain set out on an invasion of Eriabor. It wasn't much of our business then. These men, the Rangers of the North, you know them, yes?" I nodded. "They were the ones fighting back. But a small group of Orcs broke through the front line and maneuvered around them. Led by, um, Golfthinmble, they reached the Shire."

Bilbo was pronouncing the Orc leader's name wrong. He was Golfimble, and the Orcs were from Mount Gram. But I didn't say anything. For the first time in a while Bilbo looked happy, and besides, I wasn't supposed to know the story.

"So my Great-Grand-Uncle, Bandobras Took, who lived on Long Cleeve at the time, was sitting in his armchair. There was a, uh, knock, on the door, and it was a neighbor. He said, 'I just heard word on a renegade Orc army! They are heading for the Shire as we speak!' So Bandobras grabbed a club used in sports, his coat and hat, and went down to the stables.

"Now Bandobras was known for being quite tall for a Hobbit. Five and four feet, as a matter of fact," Bilbo looked smug. "Tall enough to ride a horse! And so he had one saddled up and rode out of town towards the Norbourn river, brandishing his club and yelling that he might be late for supper. He rode all the way to the Greenfields, which lay between the Norbourn and the Brandywine. He was greeted by the Orc pack, no fewer than thirty-five of the pungent beasts. They saw him an laughed. One little Hobbit with a wooden bat, against the lot of them? All the odds were stacked against him, but he showed no fear! He swung his club and chopped down one Orc at a time, hacked his way through the ranks, until in the middle he saw Golfthinmble!

"The Orc leader was furious. Bandobras had already cloven through fifteen of his men! They charged at each other, Bandobras reeling back with his club and Golffthinmble his sword. And in the last second, Bandobras swung his club with all his might," Bilbo feigned whacking the air, "and fwoosh! Knocked Golfthinmble's head clean off from his gruesome shoulders!"

"Incredible!" I said, delighted at Bilbo's excitement. I looked around and was thrilled to see Kili, Fili, Bofur and Bifur listening in as well.

"Kurusika Nulukhkhazâd!" Bifur exclaimed, smacking his forearm and laughing heartily.

"Bless you," Bilbo said.

"Erm, what?" I asked.

"He said 'Joining the petty-dwarves'" Bofur said.

"It is a Dwarven expression," Fili explained, "for when someone dies."

"But it's highly disrespectful," Kili added.

"Ah! Very well then," Bilbo continued, "um, yes, Kurusilk- um, you know what, never mind." We all laughed. "But that is not the end of it! As traditions are told, Bandobras's might was so true, Golfthinmbles's head soared all the way across the battle field, plop! Into a nearby rabbit whole. And thus, the Orc leader was slain, and the game of golf invented simultaneously."

It took all my effort not to squeal. That's what Gandalf said! To convince Bilbo of his adventurous Took side! And there Bilbo was repeating the story, but with much greater exuberance. I laughed, happy Bilbo enjoyed telling the story, and hopeful it would help him adjust to the adventure. "A thrilling tale indeed!"

"Bilbo, I didn't know you had a warrior's blood in you," Fili said.

"And a warrior _Hobbit_, no less," Kili said.

"You know Bilbo, once a Took always a took," I said.

"Took? What's a Took?" Bofur asked.

"He is," I said, pointing to Bilbo. "It is the other side of his family. The adventurous, courageous, interesting side."

"Well," Bilbo said shyly.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Kili exclaimed. "And here I thought you were just a Hobbit who loved his mother's dishes. Adventurer. I am thrilled to hear it."

"Yes, but it has been a while since a Took has done anything exciting," Bilbo said.

"Nonsense. You are on your way to steal from a dragon!" Fili said.

"The Took name will regain it's splendor soon," I said, thinking of Pippin.

"The Took name," Bilbo muttered, as if turning over the words in his head, examining the title and all it stood for. "It is little know beyond the Hobbit community. And there it is not so praised."

"You would be surprised," I said, "how great that name can be. One day it might be known across the expanses of Middle Earth, from Rohan to Gondor to the Iron Hills."

"You really think so?" Bilbo asked, dubious.

"I know so."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~A Duel Between Comrades<strong>_

The last sun rays of day four were upon us. The adventure had been met with nothing interesting but rain and fanciful story telling. Twice more did we hear the dens of an Orc pack, and the temptation to project the possibility of our trail being hunted was numbing. Azog was an important part of this story line, but I sure as hell did not want to meet him. But I held my tongue, if not for the sole sake of having no idea what to do.

I wish one of my friends were there with me. Not that I wasn't having the time of my life- heck, I agonized over forgetting a camera every damn minute. But I was in a position that required me to be rational, practical. I had to think every moment through before preforming and that was absolutely exhausting. The pressure and stress involved in making any decisions were mind numbing. If one of my LOTR-fan friends were there with me, we could discuss this story and figure out the best route to follow.

Thorin and his Company are driven unsuspectingly into Rivendell by Azog's orc pack. If I warned the Dwarves of the threat now, how would that affect the future? Would it be possible to rid ourselves of Azog sooner? But then would we ever make it to Elrond? I know what the map says. The only reason the Dwarves make the detour into the Elven kingdom is to interpret the map, discover the moon-runes. And I sure as hell didn't want to tell Gandalf I knew the map's secret- held it in a book at the bottom of my backpack as a matter of fact. I was dying to see Rivendell! But then the Dwarves would continue traveling, completely ignorant of the threat following their footsteps.

The night before I had a dream that continued to plague my mind. The Dwarves were clinging to the fire-burning trees beyond the Misty Mountains, surrounded by a scattering of Orcs dripping slime. Thorin was strewn across the rocky ground and Azog a ways off, watching with contained ecstasy as an ordered minion raised his sword by Thorin's throat. Then Bilbo came rushing. And I shot my gun. Azog was standing there oblivious to how horribly susceptible he was and I shot him in the chest.

What would the repercussions be if I did that in real life?

Along with the dream Gandalf's words kept replaying in my mind. "Then say nothing, until you think otherwise. If what you say is true and all ends well, then there isn't a substantial reason to change anything...If you set out to alter time, you risk lives who would prevail otherwise." I was so confused and conflicted. If I kill Azog, I could potentially have saved Thorin and Kili and Fili's life. But he was the Company's main threat. So many aspects would be altered without him. For one thing Kili might not be shot with a morgal shaft and he and Tauriel would not fall in love. Legolas wouldn't run after Tauriel and perhaps Thranduil wouldn't join the Battle of the Five Armies. Without the elves and the Dwarves fighting together, Dain didn't stand a chance against the Orcs. But would the Orcs still be there? Without Azog leading them? With Smaug dead and his service no longer possible to Sauron, would Sauron stay his orcs from claiming Erebor? Did that make any sense?

"Hey, Natasha!" A voice called out, shattering my internal panic.

I looked out. The Dwarves had set our campsite for the night and were tending revolving sakes atop a fire. The scent of cooking rabbit thickened the air and enticed my taste buds. I never had rabbit before, and though I wasn't necessarily excited on trying it, I was starving. "Yea?"

"How about a story?" It was Bofur.

"Yes. I want to hear more about this Brentbrook," Ori said.

"You dismiss it all as child game," I said. "You would want to hear about more fictional inventions?"

"Some are quite brilliant ideas," Balin said. "Brilliant enough to catch on quite quick. I say you might think on compiling them together."

"I don't know," I said. I wasn't in the mood to tell more about my world. I aching for something active to do. "What about a duel instead?"

"A duel?" Fili asked.

"Now that sounds inviting," Kili said.

"Yes! A duel!" I said, jumping to me feet, recognizing the potential of my idea. I drew my katana from it's sheath and held it proudly. "I am bored of sitting and talking. I will get fat if continues any longer. Someone, pick up there arms!"

The Dwarves smiled but no one moved. Then, Fili stood up, and the Dwarves all laughed. "I will accept the challenge," he said, "but not with swords." He walked and pulled two thin and long branches from the firewood pile. He tossed one to me. I caught it, and returned my sword to it's sheath.

"Do not kill each other," Thorin muttered, watching his Company absently.

"Your nephew is scared," I taunted, "if he insists on branches." The other Dwarves, particularly Kili, laughed. I knew it was all fun and games, and Fili didn't want to unintentionally slice me open. I've mentioned my sword skills to them all before but it had been clearly indicated that some didn't believe it. I didn't suggest this match out of pure restlessness. I had had enough of their condescending tones- particularly Gloin and Dwalin. I had trained with the katana since lower school. It was time I showed them.

"It would not be wise to use real swords," Fili said, "when practicing with a comrade."

Comrade? I stared at him and considered that he might not be a sexist jerk. I smiled. Perhaps Fili thought I had potential. Damn, that made me pretty happy. I stepped back and bent my knees, wielding my stick in a fighting stance. Everyone was watching happily. This was a good idea, passing the time for dinner to cook by dueling. Even Bilbo seemed interested, albeit a bit nervous. The flooring was a wide berth of dirt and stone, half in shadow from the firelight. Fili and I faced each other, and the Dwarves were all silent in anticipation, waiting for the first move.

"Care to go first?" Fili asked.

"With pleasure," I said, charging him and reeling back my stick. "Enguard, scoundrel!" Immediately he held it up in defense, his face a stone of determination. At the last moment I used my momentum to push me right ways the same moment he lunged forward in strike. I swung my stick towards his side, but Fili was fast. With the skill of a lifetime's training he whirled around and parried.

"You are light on your feet," he said as I jumped backwards, placing us apart several feet.

"And your arm is strong," I said, stretching my shoulders. He was- the parry was a blow on my muscles. I knew one hit of his full strength would knock me out cold- there was no question. He was strong and stout and heavy. I would probably snap my stick on his back if I hit hard enough. I would be dodging in this duel, a lot.

I twirled my stick fancifully, getting a feel for its weight and also, to be honest, flaunting my abilities. We charged again. The next few rounds were spent by my avoiding his blow and striking his shoulder. He always managed to block or parry and with every contact the Dwarves hooted heartily. It was a dance, though ugly and clumsy, as we were of massive hight difference and this wasn't a dance of swords, where the fighters were graceful and swift. Fili was a warrior trained to clove through Orc ranks. There was no need for glamour when your enemy was a slimy, grey-skinned rodent. He weld his sword menacingly and with little fancy tricks or flights.

He learned my tactics quickly. I always tried to dodge or duck in a way different from the last time but he was fast. As I was about to use the weight of his block to slide backwards his leg dared out and kicked my shin.

"Ow! Dammit!" I cried out, falling to the ground and hugging my leg. He hit hard!

"I'm...I didn't mean to-"

"That's got to be cheating or something," I complained.

"How is that?" He looked torn between defending his style and concern for my leg.

"You're a Dwarf! You are like, two feet shorter!"

"That doesn't make any sense. You said you wanted a duel and-"

"You want to play dirty? Alright!" I lunged forward, forgetting the pain in my leg, and slammed into him. To the frenzied excitment of our audience we tumbled backward, and I bit his hand. My teeth dug through a layer of leather glove and he yelled.

"You bit me!"

"You hit my knee," I said. Our duel had now regressed into a sad wrestling mess.

"Would you bite an orc?" He asked, standing to his feet and jumping away from a wild kick.

"If he hit me knee I would," I said, rolling sideways and standing as well.

"You are overly sensitive about your knees," he said, lunging for his stick.

I won't lie, I was horrifically close to shouting out "you mom is overly sensitive about her knees!" but thank god I caught myself. I could just imagine Fili's confusion. Instead I grabbed my stick as well, bringing it up just in time to intercept his strike to my chest.

It was a match of strength as our sticks crossed, both of us pushing against the other's. It was a match of strength that was utterly unfair because he was a dwarf and I was a human girl. Desperate, I readjusted my branch's angle, and it snapped under Fili's weight. The Dwarves all cheered, and Fili held out his hand.

I smiled and took it happily. "That was fun."

He smiled. "You have spirit, I will give you that!"

We turned and headed for the cluster of sitting Dwarves.

"You were terrifying!" Kili said. "Demented, crazy eyes you had." He pointed to his eyes, which he widened to a frightening degree. I laughed.

"How is your knee? And Fili is your hand scarred?" Oin asked, adjusting his ear trumpet.

"My hand is fine," Fili said, chuckling. "I will admit, I did not expect it. You do not usually bite on the battle field."

"I would," Bofur said. "as a last resort, of course."

"It would definitely...unsettle them," Balin said.

"Uglakhul e bekhaz mi dehar," Bifur agreed. Or I thought he agreed- he was nodding his head. I looked to the other Dwarves questioningly.

"It is better to be the hammer than the anvil," Dori translated.

"So...he is agreeing?" I asked.

"Yes," Nori said. "Attack is the best defense. Although I wouldn't say biting is the best attack."

"If I were an Orc and I saw her bite someone with those eyes, I would be terrified," Kili said. Everyone laughed.

"Natasha," Oin pointed to my leg. "Your knee?"

I realized I didn't answer him before. He was smiling with the group, but was more concerned with Fili and my injuries. I smiled warmly. My place is with the wounded. I leaned forward and rolled up the leggings of my black leggings. It was the first day I wasn't wearing my Tauriel costume, and while the Dwarves were initialy confused by my clothing's design, they soon go over it when I dismissed it as Brentbrook fashion.

I winced. My knee was already turning black and blue. It looked gross. Oin muttered something under his breath and touched it lightly. I cringed and he drew back.

"My apologies, but it doesn't look like something I can help with," he said.

"No, it is fine. Not even a flesh wound," I said, pulling my leggings down again. It hurt like hell but Oin was right- what could be done about a black and blue mark? My mind wandered to the bottle of Advil in my bag, but I quickly dismissed it. My knee didn't hurt that bad. Not enough to use one of the most valuable essentials I brought with me.

"Natasha, I am-" Fili started, but I quickly interrupted him.

"you were fantastic! Seriously, no worries!" I beamed. "I was arrogant, but then I took a blow to the knee," I muttered quietly, out of habbit. Then I cringed, and stood rigidly still.

The other Dwarves looked at me strangely. A sudden weight of panic and devastation smashed into my chest. I tried to wave it away, "Sorry, it is something we say in Brentbrook...A joke of...sorts."

That was the first moment I was legitimately furious at tumblr, the Kili meme in particular."I used to be an adventurer, but then I took an arrow to the knee." Oh, shit. That was seriously not funny in my current context. I looked up at Fili and Kili. The Dwarves had moved on and just discovered the rabbits were finished cooking. They were crowding around the fire, merry and content, a look of particular glee on Bombur's red face.

Damn arrow in the knee. What the hell! What was wrong with me? Why...Why did I have to say that. It seemed no matter what the situation was I couldn't escape reminders of what was in store for them all.

_**She Has Met Them All**_

_**They Have Learned Her Name**_

**_But How Will the Stars_**

**_Determine Their Fate?_**

* * *

><p><em>(~AN: Concerning Bifur's speech, I'm getting all the idioms from this link: <em>_s/lr03595sjyapx7e/The%20Dwarrow%20Scholar%20-%20Neo-Khuzdul%20Support%20Documents%20N-33%20-%20Idioms%20and% ?dl=0 . __I'm not sure how reliable it is,__ but I don't want to leave Bifur out of the story just because I don't speak Khuzdul. xD One of the many reasons I'm writing this is to give the other Dwarves more spotlight- I felt that a lot of them were neglected in the films. Enjoy this chapter! I had a lot of fun with it. ^.^ )_


	5. Time is Untrustworthy

_(~AN: Ok so I was on tumblr for like two hours before I wrote this and Natasha's character is developing into a sassy little sh*t. So expect an increase in profanity, although I'm trying to keep it to a minimum. __)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

**Time is Untrustworthy**

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Enough of Dwarves<strong>_

"This farmhouse is in ruins," I said, grimacing at the molding wood of our campsite. It was a quaint field breaking the forest, and a perfect resting place for the night. Night seven of our wondrous adventure, and if it weren't for Fili and Kili, I might have blown my brains out. Rivendell was just around the mind's corner, all it's splendor, twinkling and grandeur glimmering in the theoretical sunlight of my memories. But it was no less than a ten days journey from Hobbiton. That meant three days, minimum, and the Dwarves were taking their sweet ass time. There was no rush for haste- Thorin did not know about Durin's day yet. I had half a mind to tell him, but he would not believe me without the runes on the map as proof. And I wouldn't risk showing them the book- I wasn't _that_ desperate.

"I wonder what happened here," Fili said, examining the ruins.

I looked to my right. Thorin and Gandalf were talking privately, I knew, about stopping at Rivendell. I could see from the frustration on Gandalf's face and stubbornness on Thorin's that the Dwarf had blatantly refused. I sighed. "ah, damn it." Despite my obscene disinterest in dealing with it, I stomped my foot and heading over to them.

"Thorin?" I called out.

"What is it? I am speaking privately with Gandalf-"

"About Lord Elrond?" I interrupted.

Thorin tensed, then turned on Gandalf. "You spoke of this with her?"

"No," I said before Gandalf could answer. Thorin always did this- spoke about me to others I while I stood right there. The Dwarves did it all the time. It pissed me off and I wanted to explain the situation so his little stubborn Dwarf brain would understand. "I don't know if I spoke of it before, but I can see the future," I said sarcastically. "Perhaps I forgot to mention it? Forgive my bluntness, Thorin, but the fate of our Company leads to Rivendell."

"You expect me to believe-"

"Yes, I do, because like I have said before-"

"I will not crawl into Elven land and beg for aid!" Thorin grunted. "It is dishonoring on myself and my brethren."

I scrunched my face in frustration. Gosh darnnit. "Thorin, the key to your map, yes, lies in Rivendell. Of that I am certain. More than certain! _I know it. _Without Lord Elrond's help we cannot continue this quest." It was a lie. I knew what the map said. In fact, we didn't even need the runes, just the information they told. Information that I was very keen on. But hell, I wanted to see Rivendell! If that meant refusing one of the fundamentals of our missions then so be it. I was being irrational in some sense but there were things that had to happen there. I wanted to give some sort of warning to Elrond and Galadriel about Sauron. Also about Saruman- but I was _not _going to talk to him. There were a lot of decisions I had until Rivendell to make, but _being _in Rivendell was essential to those decisions. Also, I just really wanted to go there, ok? So Thorin- darnit, that's where the Company was headed.

"I would find a way around our map if but to avoid Elrond's door," Thorin said. I wanted to slap some sense into him, but no amount of practicality in the form of in-your-face insults would alter the thousand-year-old hatred of Dwarves and Elves. I looked to Gandalf helplessly. "I do not need their advice," he added.

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us," Gandalf said.

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past," Gandalf insisted.

"I did not know that they were yours to keep."

"Thorin," I muttered hopelessly.

"If that is how you will be," Gandalf said, striding off, "then I see no other choice."

I spun around. This was it- Gandalf was traveling ahead to Rivendell. My heart pounded as I realized how much closer our quest had brought us to the Elven Kingdom's golden gates. Gandalf would leave, only to return and save us from the cave trolls. We would travel for perhaps three more days, run into Radagast for whatever reason, and be forced into Rivendell unknowingly by a pack of savage orcs. Oooh! my frustration with Thorin slowly ebbed away into excitement.

"Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?" Bilbo asked.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," Gandalf said.

"Who's that?" Bilbo asked.

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! While Natasha stays to guid you. I've had enough of dwarves for one day."

"Only one here with sense, huh," I muttered under my breath. No one heard me, fortunately. The Dwarves were busy cooking dinner and Thorin and Gandalf were to busy fuming.

"Natasha?" Gandalf called out, stopping at the edge of the woods.

I looked out and hurried over. He waited patiently, leaning on his long old staff. "Yea?"

"Do you know what is on the map?" He asked me.

I stared into his piercing eyes and was thankful that he took me aside to ask it. I couldn't lie to Gandalf- he would see right through any collection of words I strung together. So I nodded, thankful there was one person on this quest who believed I had the slightest clue what was happening. "Yes. I know it's secret and what it means."

"Would you tell me? Would that save me the trip to Rivendell?"

I froze. Would it? _Would it? _I waned to ask Gandalf for, like, a million minutes to think about it. But of course, like always, stupid time was of the essence. _I_ had no freaking clue. I honestly felt like I was BSing this entire adventure. You know what they say. Fake it till you make it. It was essential for Gandalf, at least, to be there, so he could have his council meeting with Elrond and Galadriel and...yuck...Saruman. Plus I _really_ wanted to go. So…

"I could tell you, but we still must go to Rivendell," I said, taking a deep breath. Gandalf was completely oblivious to the uttermost panic deep frying my brain at that moment. I just lied to a freaking wizard. But I didn't lie- he _did _have to go. So then why did it feel wrong?

"You are keeping something, Natasha of Brentbrook," he said. His blue eyes were like freaking x-ray-vision glasses or something. I swear. Freaking wizards.

I laughed uneasily "Yes, I am. No denying there," I said, looking over my shoulder at the Dwarves. They were far away, definitely out of earshot, and more concerned with preparing dinner than my talking with Gandalf. Except for Thorin. I caught his eye and he looked away quickly. Real subtle. I turned back to Gandalf. "A ton of things, actually. Like, ok, wow, you wouldn't believe the things I'm not telling you." A certain ring, in particular. That has the potential, to, I dunno, destroy all of Middle Earth. Yea, those types of things. "And you're probably wondering, 'then if they are so big why are you not saying them?' and honestly I have no idea. Gandalf, I'm talking about, like, _really huge things. Big and dark and bad. _And I don't know if I can tell you any of them and it's driving me insane!"

"I wish I could say for you to reveal the world to me," Gandalf said. "Who knows? If you do, maybe everything can be avoided."

"or be made a thousand times worse," I said.

"That is also very likely," Gandalf said. He took a deep and heavy breath, pausing in thought. " I think…," he started, "that you should speak of all this with Lord Elrond, in Rivendell."

"And Galadriel," I said.

"Lady Galadriel? She does not dwell in Rivendell," Gandalf looked at me strangely.

"No. Oh! Right. Opps, spoiler alert," I forced a laugh, but Gandalf didn't respond. I found myself able to be myself around him- dropping the Middle Earth accent and speaking with my regular dialect. I'm sure he noticed it also. "Um, hm. Never mind," I said, clearing my throat. "Prepare for an unexpected council meeting when we all arrive."

Gandalf darkened. "Ah. That does not sound like a light matter. But, if your word is true then perhaps lady luck is on our side. Galadriel is perhaps the best one in Middle Earth to speak of this with."

Galadriel. Holy crap, thats right! She can read minds and all that jazz- there was literally no keeping anything from her. It would be inevitable, her finding out about the books and the ring and Sauron's uprising. She'll find out everything and the matter will be beyond my control and in her hands. "Yes...Now that you mention it, yes! But oh my gosh, Gandalf, me? Speak with Galadriel? That's….absurd…" No matter what I did, I could never escape the profound bizarreness that was my situation. I was just… a lowly and obsessive fanatic of Tolkien's brilliant masterpieces. I was preparing for college and running miles on treadmills and being nothing short of a regular if not slightly eccentric individual, and there I was, in freaking Middle Earth. I looked up into Gandalf's eyes and remembered I wasn't staring at a TV screen. The real Dwarves were cooking their dinner behind me. I thought I could hear Bofur yelling at Bombur to wait until the food was fully cooked. I was talking to Gandalf! _The Gandalf!_

"What is absurd about it?"

"Just...You know...she's really...queeny." I cringed. Did I really just say that?

"Queeny?" Gandalf chuckled. "I suppose that is a word to describe her. But if what you say is true and we will meet her in Rivendell, then I am sure _she_ will be interested in _you. _You are a fascinating case. But if that is all, I must be off."

"Yea. Sorry for keeping you," I said. He tipped his head and turned to leave. "Oh, and Gandalf!" I called after him. He looked back. "The council meeting- it won't happen until we arrive. And it's an _unexpected_ council meeting." I put emphasis on the word. Gandalf wasn't supposed to know about it until he was summoned for it. Or was it he who called it? That part wasn't really explained in the films.

Gandalf nodded and winked. "Farewell, Natasha of Brentbrook."

I watched him leave until the shadows of trees enveloped him. Sighing, I turned and headed back for the Dwarves. Thorin, who had his eye on our private conversation the whole time, blocked my way to the camp fire. The sun was only beginning to set, the air damp and blue. Thorin didn't look happy. But then again, he rarely did.

He leaned in close. "What did you say to him?" He sounded accusing, and hostile.

I bit back a sarcastic retort. I was already blatant and disrespectful to him, something I should have been careful of. He was the leader of the quest and it was stupid of me to shout at him. _Really stupid._ So, instead, I made up a lie. "Nothing. He summoned me. Merely reminded me of the dangers that lurks ahead. Cave trolls, bears, other beasts we best not disturb. He told me to keep my eye open for them."

"Your eye open?"

"Yes. Apologies, it is a saying. _Third eye. _Never mind it- I should just try and be aware of their presence."

Thorin stared at me, scrutinizing with his heavy gaze. Then, satisfied, or else finding no excuse to further interrogate, he grunted. "Very well. I suggest you do not take that mater lightly."

I bowed my head. "Of course not." I waited for him to add anything, and when he didn't I joined the dwarves and their campfire. I helped distribute dinner and kept a close eye on the setting sun. We would run into the Trolls soon.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Panicked Prediction<strong>_

I fidgeted restlessly. The sky was dark and black, the air cruel and cold. None of the Dwarves were sleeping but were well on their way, speaking quietly and their merriment dying down. It was astounding how jolly they could still be, having trekked on this long and boring road for seven days and six nights now. I was thoroughly impressed, and it only made my respect and delight in them greater.

I was practically counting the minutes. My head was swimming with excitement and fear. The Cave Trolls- I didn't want to wait for Fili and Kili to run in yelling. The Dwarves were quieting down but some were still eating their dinner. I figured we wouldn't settle in for the night for at least another hour, probably two. Fili and Kili were camping with the horses. I was so tempted to join them- we would have so much fun- but I wanted to stay with the majority of the company to warn them about the trolls.

The odd thing was Fili and Kili ate their meal with us. We had an early dinner so Bilbo wasn't sent to give them their share. I figured, things were changing. It was a very slight and subtle difference from the film, but a difference nonetheless. It was concerning, but as long as the main plot line stayed the same I had nothing to worry about.

I looked over at Bilbo. He sat near me and the rowdiest of the Dwarves- Bofur, Bombor, Ori and Bifur. I was growing compassion for all of the Dwarves. Most were hardly given a spotlight in the movies, but I was discovering how sweet Oin was, and how tender he acted towards everyone, though most of all Ori, who was loud and rowdy but also very kind. Bifur was an oddity, speaking only in Khuzdul and walking around with an ax sticking out of his head. He spoke a lot though- I couldn't have a conversation with him but it was clear he could understand the Common Tongue. As long as there was someone who could translate for him, he usually took part in our conversations. He also tended to speak only in idioms and phrases. So weird.

I decided it was time. I cleared my throat and jerked my head towards the woods, as if startled by something.

"Are you alright?" Bofur asked. I knew the Dwarves suspected no trouble- the only woodland sounds that reached our ears were the hootings of owls.

"...I just have... the oddest feeling," I said, being careful not to be to dramatic. "Something is out there."

A wave of murmurings passed over the Dwarves, who suddenly sat straighter and more alert. "What do you suppose it is?" Ori asked.

I paused, glaring at the trees and concentrating fiercely, as if I was mentally examining within it. "Trolls," I said suddenly. "Cave Trolls."

"Cave Trolls?" Bilbo squeaked.

Thorin looked over in interest. "Are you sure? I hear nothing."

"They are out there," I said. "...I think they might steal out horses."

"Steal our horses?!" Gloin exclaimed angrily.

"Dwalin! Bofur! Go and search for any nearby threat," Thorin said. "Bring Natasha."

As Dwalin and Bofur grumpily stood up, Balin added, "be sure to warn the lads if you meet with them."

I energetically jumped to me feet and joined the two Dwarves, who were gathering their weaponry. When they were ready we headed on our way towards the opening in the woods.

"Do not weigh us back," Dwalin muttered to me.

I made a noise of dispute, but Bofur quickly interjected, "she won't. She is reckless, remember? A Kili in the making."

"Aulë knows we do not need another of him," Dwalin grumbled.

I didn't say anything. Apparently biting Fili in our duel gave me a reputation. I thought about is as we made our way, and decided I didn't much mind.

"Watch yourselves," Thorin warned.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Cold Shoulder<strong>_

The forest was quiet. Despairingly quiet, and I feared Dwalin and Bofur would soon decide no Trolls could run amuck so silently. I cursed those stupid beasts and kept a look out for their fire. As we walked my heart pounded against my rib cage, so that I could almost feel it in my skill. I was exhilarated, but also terrified.

"Do you have any idea where they might be?" Dwalin asked. Both Dwarves had their weapons in hand but were stomping in the forest dismissivly. They weren't taking to much concern with being quiet.

"I can sense them, not track," I said. "My sight does not work in that way."

"I am still not convinced you have any sight at all," Dwalin mumbled.

"Why do you say this?"

"I have doubts you guessed of the key yourself. How can I know Gandalf did not tell you before hand? I do not argue your place in the Company, but I will not believe it is for your "sight".

"If you do not trust me, trust Gandalf," I said, agitated.

"Hey! Enough bickering," Bofur said. "We will see soon enough anyways, if we run into any Trolls."

"I do not need to prove anything," I said defensively.

"Again I say, there is nothing to prove," Dwalin countered.

I stopped walking. The others stopped as well and looked at me. "I have had little words with you Dwalin, son of Fundin, but I know you well enough."

"Is that so?"

"You are a renowned and splendid warrior," I said.

"That is obvious! You need only eyes in your head to see that."

"I am not finished. You speak your mind, very blatantly might I add. You find foolery an insult and often question Bilbo and my company, however you only speak of these concerns with Thorin, to whom you are fiercely loyal. Your trust and loyalty to him is unmatched, even by the other Dwarves. You are his greatest supporter, and along with Balin the only Dwarf of this company who were with Thorin in Thrain's attempt at reclaiming Erebor. You, however, were born after Smaug took the Lonely mountain, and unlike your brother have never seen the House of Durin in all it's splendor. That infuriates you, and further fuels your drive in this quest. You feel the experiences of Erebor were personally stolen from you, that it is unfair your brother was able to live under the great rule of Thror," (although in the books it was Thrain's rule that was interrupted by Smaug), "and this, along with your unshakeable loyalty in Thorin's leadership, is the kindling of your undying and utter hatred of Smaug and Azog.

"You have a distrust of any who is not a Dwarf. I respect that, as it shows you are fiercely loyal to not only Thorin but to your people as well. You are stubborner than most when it comes to accepting an outsider, and only for those who have earned your respect do you support and defend. You are proud and this I respect, only I ask you to not so openly doubt me. I have not yet earned your trust, but I hope you believe me when I say I am on this mission with the House of Durin at heart." Thorin, but in particular Kili and Fili. I wasn't about to say that though.

Dwalin studied me momentarily. I knew that wasn't going to be enough to dispel his doubts. This wasn't a stupid cliche teen novel where I could bat my eyelashes and gain the trust and love and support of anyone and everyone. No, definitely not. And I was dealing with Dwarves here, stubborn smelly Dwarves. He grunted, and I new he was at least slightly impressed with some of the things I said. "Durin at heart. Yet I see no excuse for this loyalty."

"There isn't any I can give you," I said. Literally the only reason I cared at all was because of the movies. And I couldn't exactly tell them that. I understood his hesitation. I wasn't a Dwarf, and supposedly lived in a region far away and had no connection to Thorin or Durin's sons. It was obvious why my loyalty was questioned. "You doubt my abilities yet I will say this anyways. I have seen your stories in the stars. The tragedy of Durin's tale struck compassion in my heart and I wish to help make things right. That is my only connection with you, but I hope it will be enough until I can prove myself."

"You must admit she is fun to have around," Bofur said, clearly anxious to drop the topic continue searching for the Trolls.

Dwalin stayed silent for a moment. "We shall see if your words are true."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Empty Handed<strong>_

We ran into no trouble. After around twenty minutes we found our way to Kii and Fili, who were delighted but confused by our arrival.

"Did something happen?" Fili asked worriedly.

"Natasha has sensed Trolls nearby, yet so far we have found nothing," Bofur said.

"Trolls?" Kili asked. "No sign of them here."

"I thought as much," Dwalin grumbled.

"Trolls need shelter from daylight," Fili said. "The terrain does not become suitable for such purpose until another days journey, at least. I would not expect Trolls in this area."

"But...I was certain…" I looked around the forest hopelessly. Could it be I got the day wrong? Did I miscalculate Gandalf's journey? I sighed and mentally kicked myself. Rivendell was another three to seven days away. I must have underestimated Gandalf's speed in getting there and back. He only left several hours ago. Gosh! I was so stupid! There would be no encounter with Trolls tonight and the Dwarves would further doubt my abilities. This was just perfect! I looked around at their expecting faces at a loss for words.

"Could it be you misinterpreted...What ever it was?" Fili asked gently.

"Maybe you thought you smelled them, but really it was just us," Kili tried to lighten the mood.

"Or they are just farther ahead," Bofur said.

I shrugged and shook my head, sighing angrily. I also refused to consider the fact that perhaps we wouldn't run into the Trolls at all. No, absalutly not acknowledging that thought.

"Well, we best head back and tell the others," Bofur said. "Do keep an eye out though," he told Kili and Fili.

We said our good-nights and headed back towards the campsite. I intentionally avoiding looking at Dwalin. The walk felt eternal, and when we finally reached the grounds my shoulders sagged and my eyes stung. I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

The Dwarves looked at us anxiously, but I shook my head. "We found nothing."

"You should not look so upset," Balin said. "That is good news."

"You are right. I am just tired," I said, layout out my blanket and preparing the ground. I couldn't exactly explain my disappointment to them. But apparently they believed my lie about being tired, because no one objected to me calling it in early. I curled up and fell asleep quickly. This time, though, my sleep was troubled. I didn't remember the dream but knew it was unsettling.

_**And Thus Ends the First Week of Natasha's Adventure**_

_**They Have Made Progress on Foot**_

_**But Not Even Wizards can See What Lies Ahead.**_


	6. Trolls in the Forest

_(AN: Yay! The Trolls are coming! O.o Thanks for all the kind reviews! ^.^ I want to remind you guys that I'm posting as much and as often as I can while I'm free. But winter break ends after this week and then high school calls. Yuck. I have a ridiculously packed schedule and my posted won't be as often as it is now. :( )_

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

**Trolls in the Forest**

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Cleansing Waters<strong>_

_This is wonderful._

The night of the eighth day was warm and humid, and I found a pleasant stream near our camp site. The idea of a bath was too inviting to pass, and after gathering firewood for the Dwarves I excused myself for a little time alone. I made sure they knew not to follow- made it very clear that I was leaving for a proper washing. Initially I was terrified of one of the Dwarves marching on in and seeing me, well, naked. God that would be brutal. But the stream was well concealed by stone and trees, and those worries were gone.

The stream was profoundly peaceful. It was thick and wide, and babbled smoothly. The birds were still awake and high in the trees, and low sunlight streamed in from the circling forest. Grey stones were scattered and the grass left to peep between their cracks, as the Company had reached the bases of more rocky terrain. Since the stream flowed steadily it's water was clear and clean and mingled with the foggy air in a dense misty cloud.

I brought my backpack, which sat beside the flat rock where my Tauriel Cosplay was laid out and drying. Among the first things I did, while the evening was still light, was submerge it in water and use a petty amount of soap to scrub the under arms and inner most layers. I was crossing my fingers that the elves would be kind enough to give me clothing that fit this time and setting. I only had one outfit, and I couldn't wear and wash it indefinitely.

I commended myself for the hygienics I brought. From the bottom of my backpack I dug out several hotel-size bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. After the second day of the journey I tied up my hair high atop my head and never brought it down. It had gotten so oily and grimy I cringed whenever a loose strand brushed against my face. It was gross- worse than the smell and sweat I had to endure throughout the days. Oily hair was a physical discomfort and several times I almost chopped it shorter. But I didn't- I was a conceited girl and found long hair comforting.

After I sorted out my soaps and sat them on a rock near the lips of the stream, along with my flashlight for when the sun set, I stripped and practically dove into the water. It was chilly, but totally worth it. The water felt fresh on my skin and I spent several moments floating and enjoying. But I was short on time. In the back of my mind I still had thoughts on the Trolls. After a day of turning last nights evens over and over in my mind I decided not to worry. The confrontation would happen any night now, and unless I found a way to predict exactly when there was no use fretting. So I waved the concerns away, which was easy as I let the babbling stream wash over me.

Relaxed, all tension washed away by the serene surrounding, I began to scrub away the grime coating my skin with my fingers. It was a tough job, considering I was filthy with mud and sweat. Once satisfied, I allowed myself a reasonable dollop of shampoo and attacked my hair. I sighed in bliss as the soap gathered into a lather- I could almost hear it wiping away the oil and slime. With my fingers I dug into my scalp and massaged rigorously. I was to tempted to use a second helping but I held myself back, instead rinsing the shampoo and squeezing a bead of conditioner into my palms. I didn't dare use anymore- my hair did not need any extra oil. Gently I rubbed in into my ends, left if alone and proceeded with the body wash, which I spent a good seven minutes scrubbing onto every inch and crevice. Ok, yea, TMI. I finished, washed out the conditioner, and climbed from the stream.

The day was significantly darker. I turned on my flashlight, dismissive of wasting its life as it was solar and crank powered. I set in on a rock, illuminating a white circle amidst the growing blackness. I used an unused shirt to dry myself off, wrung out the extra water in my hair, and put away my soaps. I hid them at the bottom of my backpack. Although I didn't like it, of these supplies from home I was greedy and stingy. The Dwarves didn't know about a good 75% of the things I carried, and I intended to keep it that way. The Advil, the bullets and tazer and pepper spray and pocket knife, the soaps and gum- all of it I kept secret. I even cringed at the thought of the Dwarves finding my weapons. I always kept the gun strapped to my thigh, even at night. It was incredibly uncomfortable and stupid and dangerous- that's how accidents happen. A moron forgets to turn on the safety and ends up shooting himself in the ass or foot. But I was as careful as I could be, and deemed the risk worth it.

Once reasonably dry and finished packing, I dressed in leggings and a soft plain T-shirt. I carefully folded my Taurial costume, which was still damp, and slipped into my boots. Shoes. That was a dilemma I would have to deal with soon. The days were spent mostly by riding, but once our path lead to constant walking and trekking I would have an issue. I was beyond stupid taking these combat boots. A brilliant pair of expensive hiking sneakers were in my bedroom closet, but for some reason my stupid brain didn't consider them in my frenzied packing. No, I grabbed these pathetic boots I bought at Payless. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! You wouldn't think shoes were all that important, until yours start falling apart and you find your feet plagued with blisters. Unlike Bilbo I didn't have the blessing of stupid Hobbit feet. And unlike the Dwarves I didn't have metal-sturdy boots that though heavy provided a ridicules amount of protection. I would know. Fili kicked me in the knee.

Among the dozens of other things I hoped I wouldn't be too chicken to beg Elrond for- clothings, lembas bread, perhaps a dagger, an elven cloak- shoes were definitely high on that list. I had no idea if he would give them to me. I couldn't think of a reason why not, but it was also beyond uncomfortable asking those things from elves. Elrond no less. I was awkward asking my own grandmother for birthday money- how on earth was I going to handle this with dignity?

But none of that was relevant now. I was quickly realizing how important Rivendell was going to be for me, but it lay a long way ahead. So I shoved those thoughts away and tucked them somewhere neatly in my mind, and said farewell to the heavenly stream.

As I used my flashlight to find my way back, I couldn't help but shiver from the ominous darkness. It was cliche, and my being wet and cold didn't lighten matters, but there was something both peaceful and powerful about the lack of light at night. No streetlights or glows peeping from house windows, no glares from cars- only the glimmering of the stars and moon lit up the world at night. But because I was in the forest, only the tips of trees basked in the sky's incandescent illumination, coated silver and swaying high away. The forest grounds were blanketed in deep black that seemed so heavy my flashlight struggled to pierce it.

Some of the nights Thorin demanded we put out the fire. It was when distant howls of the orc pack disturbed the skies. But tonight I was thankful because the fire shone brightly, a beacon that helped me find my way back. I returned, my hair still dripping down my back but otherwise dry and wonderfully clean. I dropped my backpack by my pile of beddings and quickly wrapped myself in one of my three coats. I was ever thankful for having the sense to bring more than one. They were incredibly thermal and because of their light weight material condensed into a small pouch with little effort. They added little strain to my load and hardly took up any space.

I looked around the camp fire. Kili and Fili were watching the horses again. Poor guys, away from the Company, though I'm sure they found ways of entertainment. I caught Bofur's eye and we smiled at each other. It seemed dinner was only just ready, as the Dwarves stood clustered together and were spilling stew into bowls. Famished, I headed over, but stopped in my tracks when I didn't see a certain Hobbit.

"Wait. Where is Bilbo?"

"Oh, we sent him to bring stew for the lads," Bofur said.

"What?! When!" This was unlike last night, when Kili and Fili ate with us. That meant…

"A good while ago," Nori said dismissivly.

"Crap on a stick," I muttered probably to loudly. I spun towards the woods and unsheathed my sword.

The other Dwarves stared at me. "Natasha, what is it?"

"Trolls! This time I am certain!" I looked to them and felt myself tense in annoyance. "I am not lying!"

"No one is saying you are false…" Dori said.

"Just that you are...wrong," Ori said.

"That is the definition of calling me false," I said, irritated. I jumped up and down, aggravated and impatient. "Ugh! We are wasting time! I swear there are Trolls and they have stolen two of our horses!"

"Natasha!" Dwalin warned. "You wasted Bofur's and my time with this last night."

"Last night I misjudged. The stench of Trolls is over bearing," I said, pulling excuses out of my butt. "I could sense it a day away. But it is strong now and I know there are dangerously close."

"If it is their stench you smell," Thorin said, "then why only suddenly do you sense it? Why did you not demand this two hours prior?" He looked at me seriously, challengingly.

I faltered. Crap. He had me. He had caught the fallacies in my excuse. "I- they are not out during the day," I managed weakly, knowing the words would only crumble my credibility further.

"She does not sense them! Not in the way she insists," Dwalin growled to the other Dwarves. They all looked at me, some challengingly, some hopelessly. I had no idea how to convince them.

"It is difficult to describe how my mind works!" I pleaded. "It is not always reliable but-"

"Then how can we be certain it is reliable now?" Dwalin asked, to the nodding of several of the Dwarves.

"I...I am begging you to listen and-"

"TROLLS!" A voice screamed from the trees. We all looked towards the interruption in unison. Fili and Kili crashed through the trees, their arms waving and their chests heaving. "Trolls!" Fili gasped, reaching our Company and collapsing into a kneel. He had run all the way over and was breathing raggedly. "In the forest."

The Dwarves were silent, until Thorin broke it. "Where is the hobbit?"

When Fili faltered I answered, "trying to steal back our horses."

Fili looked at me, surprised. "Yes. Two were stolen."

The Dwarves broke out into disordered mutterings. "Silence! Gather your weapons," Thorin said, "quickly now. How many?"

"Three," Kili and Fili said together.

"She was right. Natasha!" Ori exclaimed, his voice rising over the jumbled confusion of the Dwarves.

I straightened my shoulders and stood proudly. Damn right I was. But I pushed it aside and took inventory of my weapons. I had my katana and my gun. I darted to my backpack and took out my pocket knife, which I tucked within my coat. If I ended up tied in a sack, I would have a way to cut myself loose.

In a matter of minutes everyone was prepared and standing at the ready. "Follow me, and tread quietly. Fili, Kili," he turned to the two brothers. "Lead the way."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~The Demise of Bert<strong>_

Alright then. This was it. Our Company's first encounter with danger.

I didn't know what to think, but still my mind was persistent in shoving every possible thought down my throat. I was excited. Exhilarated, actually, because, well, seriously, I was about to fight some Cave Trolls. But, then again, _I was about to fight some Cave Trolls._ My heart hammered and my skin crawled. I was in the middle of the Dwarf pack, racing tentatively through the woods, careful of snagging thorns and covered roots. I had never fought anything other than a sparring partner and I was worried how I would react. In my fantasies I was always the hero, always glowing with blinding courage and bravery. I liked to believe I could laugh in the face of death and my thrill of adventure fueled me to be reckless and brash, like Peter Pan. Like the warriors around me I would never shy away from danger.

But that was total bull shit. Fantastic dreams of girl sheltered from the horrors and pains of life. There's a great line in Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight. Maybe one of the most bone-chilling lines the Joker says. It caused discomfort in the audience, or at least in me, and I found it directly relevent to my situation. The Joker said, "In... you see, in their last moments, people show you who they really are." If a person is a coward or a hero. And then the Joker proceeded to kill a bunch of police officers by setting of a bomb implanted in some poor guys stomach, but that's besides the point. It was a profound statement, hinting that we don't truly know ourselves until we've seen death's face. In those moments our actions truly count as defining our person, and until then a part of ourselves will always be a stranger.

As we ran through the woods, my worst fear was that I would panic. I would see the Trolls towering over us like buildings and cower away, and prove to myself and Thorin and all the Dwarves that I didn't belong there. I couldn't handle the races of battle. I was _terrified_ of letting my fear overwhelm me. Already I felt the hammering of adrennalin pulsing through my body, but everything depended on that first instict. Would I fly or fight? Because once I chose, changed course would require the uttermost of courage and strength.

"There! Do you see the fire?" Kili whispered loudly.

"That is their campsite," Fili said.

As we reared the opening of trees we slowed down. "You should not have left the Hobbit alone," Thorin said.

Kili and Fili said nothing as we fanned out behind the shrubery. As quietly as I could manage I pushed away the brambled blocking my sight of the Trolls. I froze when I spot them. Three gruesome, grimy Trolls as high as trucks bending over a steaming couldran of slime and a trembling Bilbo. My mind was frozen, and I despretly pried my way through memories of the story. Their names were Tom, Bert, and...William...I was partly certain. Their attenchion was on Bilbo, who along with the three of them was oblivious to our presence.

One of the Dwarves made to pass through the bushes. "Wait," Thorin whispered.

We all listened in, perking our ears to Bilbo's terrified conversation.

"I'm a burglar- uhh, Hobbit," Bilbo stuttered. I couldn't see his face but I _felt_ him cringe. Poor soul, though he hid his fear valiantly. I couldn't help but stare at him in awe. He stood against the Trolls gallantly- a meager Hobbit in the shadows of colossal monsters.

"A Burgla-Hobbit?" One of the Trolls asked. I randomly assigned to each of them one of the three names. I decided that one was William.

"Can we cook `im?" Tom asked. At this the Dwarves bristled. Thorin held out his hand still- _make no move._

"We can try!" William roared, lunging for Bilbo. But the Hobbit was swift, and avoided Wiliam's meaty grip.

I looked at the Dwarves. For some reason I was surprised to see Fili and Kili next to me. Dori and Nori were at my left. I fidgeted, gaining Fili's attention. He looked in my eyes and acknowledged my impatience. He mouthed the words "_wait"._

I looked on helplessly. My hand slid to the hilt of my katana, and I twitched my leg to feel the comforting weight of my gun. I was conflicted between which weapons to use. One the one hand, the gun would be most effective. I could stand at a safe distance and still inflict reasonable damage. Plus I deemed this situation suitable for my limited supply of bullets. But the Dwarves didn't know about my gun. I wasn't sure why I didn't like the idea of them discovering it. Its technology was beyond this world, and perhaps I was afraid they would challenge it. It wasn't just an odd weapon- it was literally unknown to them. How would they react? Would Thorin insist on keeping in instead, or demand it of the make of evil and have it destroyed?

"He's lying," one of the Trolls growled. I looked out and grimaced. Bilbo dangled from one of their clutches.

"No I'm not!" Bilbo insisted.

"Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal!" said Tom, or maybe William. I didn't know or really care. All that mattered was he was the one who held Bilbo by the foot.

Kili suddenly burst through the bushes. Fili made to hold him back but was to late. Kili pointed his sword and looked up at the Trolls. "Drop him!"

"You what?" Tom asked, confused by the sudden outburst.

I could imagine Kili's impish smile when he repeated, "I said, drop him."

For some reason, and this always confused me, Tom listened. He tossed Bilbo into the open arms of Kili, who fell under the sudden weight. I braced myself, knowing any minute the Dwarves would all charge through. This was it. My heart raced and my legs felt suddenly numb.

Thorin yelled, and in an instant the Trolls were met with a choir of war cries as the Dwarves clove through the trees, weapons at the ready. I jerked forward, but my legs hesitated. My vision blurred and I gasped for air. The suspense, the stress and absolute terror, it was drowning. In that split second I was met with a resistant wall. I wanted to move and run with the Dwarves but forcing my legs to move was beyond excruciating. Willing myself into that ferocious battle zone was no doubt the hardest thing I ever did. _Fight or Flight._

I don't know how, and I probably never would, but I made my decision. It was an instantaneous instinct, when my mind sputtered and stopped working. It really wasn't a decision but an action. My gut claimed control and pushed my body through the trees and into the open chaos. The entire conflict felt like eternity, but when I jumped through the Dwarves were only just engaging the Trolls.

_Fight. _Just like that, I was a warrior. I glared my eyes and pulled my lips back in a snarl. My sword unsheathed, I plunged into battle, joining the disorder and jumbled ensemble of clashing metal and shouting Dwarves. Everything fell away, the rushing blood in my head muffling all noise. I became a machine, unaware and unconcerned for the other Dwarves. I slammed my sword into one of the Trolls feet and jumped back from his swinging hand. His cry of pain was lost on me as I darted forwards and under his legs, spun around, and slammed my sword into his thigh. I didn't strike bone but the Troll still bellowed in rage, dropping to his knee and swatting at the Dwarves like flies. I panted and was caught by the scene.

I wasn't in control of my body, but my mind tried forcefully to pry me back into consciousness. It shouted, _think. Fight but think. _I stopped moving, held my ground, and shook my head. I became aware of the numbing cloth dampening my thoughts and somehow managed to yank it away. The sounds of the battle slammed into me and I soaked in the scene completely. The Dwarves slashed and hacked and rolled between the Trolls, but we were so small compared to them. We didn't stand a chance, and I knew we only had minutes until Bilbo was caught. _Bilbo._

My eyes darted back and forth, searching for the Hobbit. _The horses,_ I reminded myself. Without hesitation I raced forward, half concentrating on dodging the Trolls and half praying I wasn't interrupted. Thankfully, finally, I reached Bilbo, who was desperately cutting away at the ropes binding the horse's gate closed.

"Don't," I stayed his hand. "They are frightened and will only run away. You must hide, or get out of the way."

I glanced at my sword and sheathed it. My hand lunged for my gun. Still facing Bilbo, I saw his eyes widened and had the sense to jump out of the way. "Duck!" I screamed at him, but it was to late; he was caught and withdrawn by one of the the Trolls.

I didn't even think. I wiped my gun out in front of me. I unclipped the safety, pulled back the slide, risked an instant to aim, and squeezed the trigger.

***Bang!***

Pain exploded in my ears and a moment of startled confusion settled the din of battle. My arm jumped back with the recoil, but I remained in control of the weapon. The Troll who held Bilbo lurched backwards. I hit his shoulder. Deciding I had more time now to aim closely, I repositioned the gun and discharged it twice more. The skin of the Troll's forehead erupted by the impact, pealing backwards and spraying blood and brain matter. His face relaxed and his grip on Bilbo slackened. The Hobbit fell and scrambled out of the way as the Troll teetered, his brain dead and forehead dripping slime.

Time slowed and everyone marveled as the Troll fell, twitched and spazzed it's arms, and then moved no more.

"BERT!" One of the other Trolls bellowed. The haze shattered and I was ripped back into reality. The Dwarves cheered and resumed fighting, now fueled with additional ferocity. Bilbo stood to his feet and ran behind me on shaking knees. His face and front were splattered with red and gloop.

One of the other Trolls charged at me, shouting. I felt a moment of panic and considered the possibly that shooting the crap out of Bert was a bad idea, and brought up my gun again. I shot at the Troll with shaking hands, and only grazed his shoulder. Aghast, I pressed the trigger again, but the gun clicked. _Dammit. _It wasn't possible- of all the horrible rotten stinking luck, the blasted gun was jammed! Crap on a sick! "_ARE YOU F*CKING SERIOUS?!"_ Absalutly no way that actually happened. _No f*cking way._

Thinking quickly, I shoved the gun back into it's holster as the Troll reached out to grab me. I tried to dodge but he was fast. Faster then what should have been possible, and his meaty fingers wrapped around my torso.

He held me up and squeezed. I gasped. Obscene pressure pilled my muscles as he shook me around. "STOP! ALL OF YOU STOP!" he roared. The Dwarves stood still. "DROP 'ER WEAPONS! Or she turns to mush."

There was a moment of hesitation. The Troll tightened it's grip and I gasped in pain. My head started to swim, and I thought, _this is it._ I was going to die. I couldn't help but be disappointed. What a crappy ending.

But then Thorin impaled the earth with his sword. The Dwarves stared, and then followed suit, shoving and slamming their weapons on the ground. We were caught. But this time it was my fault, not bilbos. And the two remaining Trolls were beyond furious.

The nasty beast squeezed all the air out of my stomach. I couldn't breath, and then I was enveloped in darkness.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~The Imbecility of Trolls<strong>_

Ow. Oh, _shit_.

My head swam as I was slowly brought back to reality. The prominent ringing in my ears and aching in my waist helped me to recall all that had happened. Trolls. Gun. The Demise of Bert. And then our capture.

Keeping my eyes closed I fidgeted, trying to get the best feel for my surroundings. My arms were bound to my sides and legs together. I was also in a potato sack. That was just wonderful.

I peeked my eyes open. Sprawled in identical sacks beside me were Thorin, Kili and Fili, Gloin, Bombur, Balin, Oin and Bilbo. I craned my neck to see the rest of the Dwarves tied too a spit over a blazing fire. One of the Trolls sat, rotating them slowly. The Dwarves were bickering, shouting insults and ironies at the Trolls, but were blatantly ignored.

"Natasha!" Someone whispered near me. I turned my head to see Fili near my feet. "Are you alright?"

I grimaced. I was in pain, but none of it amounted to the heavy embarrassment I felt. It was Bilbo who the Dwarves were supposed to surrender for, not me. I moved too slowly and jeopardized the entire assault. "I have been better, but will be far worse if we do not escape."

I squirmed my body in an attempt to feel my thigh. I was praying beyond hope, and then I felt it. Wow. I was astounded to find my gun still in it's holster. Either the Trolls were ridiculously stupid and I was beyond lucky, or they were too afraid to take it away. I expected the first one. My katana, however, was missing. I clenched my stomach in irritation, but considering the circumstances, I didn't complain.

"You killed a Troll," Fili whispered. Despite the horrible situation he was smiling.

"It was nothing," I said.

"Nothing? Do you know how-" but he was interrupted. One of the trolls, the bigger of the two, let out a roar of laughter. I squeezed my eyes in instinctual anticipation as I felt his footsteps thundering on the ground.

"Well well well," he said, grabbing the bottom of my sack and lifting me upwards. He held only the sack and not my feet, and I felt myself slipping down, the neckline digging further into my neck. I held back a choke. "Look oo's awake, William."

"Put her down!" Fili demanded, along with the other Dwarves. Tom laughed heartily and shook me around.

The world swam by in a blur. "You killed Bert!" He bellowed. "Why!"

"What do you mean why?!" I managed, my voice uneven from his forced movement. He stopped shaking my sack and glared at me. "You are cooking my friends and yet you ask why I defended myself?"

"Uh- shut up!" Tom faltered. Logic seemed lost on him. "How did you do it?"

I paused. "How did I kill him? Well, I would think that would be obvious." When Tom didn't say anything, I told a lie that hopefully wouldn't come back to bite me in the butt. "I'm a wizard."

"A Wizard?" Tom asked, holding me up closer. Dear lord he smelled worse than the Dwarves, if that was even possible.

"Ooo! I've 'eard of Wizards!" William exclaimed. "They're 'orible things."

"He's right," I said, looking at Tom. "You should let me go."

"Nonsense!" He said. "I ain't afraid of no wizard." Dammit. It was worth a try.

"You should be! You saw what I did to Bert. You want to end up like him?"

Tom's face twisted into an expression of rage, but also fear. Tentatively he put me back down, holding me far away like I would explode at any moment. "We'll eat ya last," he said.

"Untie us, you monsters!" Oin cried.

"Take on someone your own size!" Gloin said.

I grunted. "Damn it all. I started squirming vainly. The movement caused my coat pocket to smack against my hand. It hurt- there was something heavy inside. "Oh my god," I said, as the realization dawned on me.

"What is it?" Fili asked. He was also fidgeting in his bindings. Within the sack he looked like an epileptic worm.

"My pocket knife. Fili, _I brought my knife,"_ I said quietly, so only he could hear. I shifted my body and stretched my fingers as far as I could. I grunted as my arm burned from the strain, but my reaching fingers managed into my pocket and around the handle. I removed it and blindly felt along its edge, bringing out the different blades and tools until I found the miniature saw. "I can cut myself loose," I said. But I needed time.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tom and William bickering. ""Never mind the seasoning; we ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far away, so let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

I held in a gasp. That's right. Sunlight. I craned my neck to see Bilbo. The poor Hobbit still had blood and brains on his face, but by looking at him I could tell we were thinking the same thing. "Bilbo!" I whispered as loudly as I could. He looked at me, and I nodded. I prayed he understood what I was getting at; he took a deep breath and stood up. I thanked whoever god of Middle Earth might be listening.

"Wait! You are making a terrible mistake," Bilbo said. "Uh, I meant with the, uh, with, uh, with the seasoning."

The Trolls looked at him. I bit my lip and as subtly as I could began hacking at the ropes around my arms. I had to bend by hand backwards, and within seconds it started to cramp, but I suffered through it. I was worried- with one of the Trolls dead I had no idea how this would play differently.

"What about the seasoning?" Tom asked.

"Well have you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

The Dwarves started yelling and shouting curses at him. "Shut up!" I snapped, but it was no good. They couldn't hear me. Even Fili threw insults at the poor misunderstood Bilbo.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" One of the Trolls asked.

"Shut up, and let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk," the other grumbled. "My patience is thinning with you."

"Thinning with me?" The other said. "Damn you Tom!"

"Shut up Shut up shut up!" William bellowed. Then he turned on Bilbo. "What is it then? Spit it out!"

"Ye-yes, I'm telling you, the secret is … to _skin_ them first!" The Dwarves all started shouting. I jerked my arm...and...aha! I did it! The ropes fell away into the bottom of the sack. I curled up my legs and started on the second bindings. I heard rustling in the trees ahead of us, near the stones covering the sky. _Gandalf_.

"What a load of rubbish!" Tom yelled. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all."

William looked up into the sky. "Um, Tom?" The troll looked worried. I cursed- that wasn't supposed to happen. Bilbo wasn't being distracting enough, William was noticing it was almost day break. The rope proved tough for my knife but I was so close…

"Shut up! I don't care!"

"How rude!" Bilbo scoffed. "You would talk that way to a friend?"

"He is no friend!" William spat.

"_Shut up_ William!"

"You're right," Bilbo said. "Why do you let him boss you around?"

I looked up at bilbo in awe. He was turning them against each other. Brilliant! The Hobbit was Brilliant! I felt a rush of inspiration, a surge of power, and I sliced more rigorously into the rope.

"Boss me around?" William asked.

"Yes. Is he in charge?" Bilbo asked.

"William stop talking to the flurgaburburrahobbit."

"Shut up Tom!" William snapped, then gasped as his nerve. But he must have decided he liked it, because he continued, more resolute. "Stop telling me what to do."

There! The rope fell away and my legs were free. In an instant I whipped my gun from it's holster and pointed it away from my body. I couldn't see what I was doing but I had to unjam it. I closed my eyes and prayed it was a simple clogging in the magazine and nothing that rendered it useless. I snapped back the slide and felt a surge of relief when the blunt bullet popped out. There was a click as the next one slid into place, and the gun was good to go. I pulled at the sack from around my neck. It fell open and I jumped to me feet.

Before the Trolls could say anything I aimed at Tom, the bigger and leader of the two, and pressed the trigger repeatedly. The first one hit his slouching shoulder, the second his chin and the third his cheek. With each impact Tom jerked backwards. That was seven bullets total from this Troll fight. I still had eight more until I had to reload. I shot Tom again, this time marking directly in the neck. He looked at me with this dopey expression, sputtered a jumble of spitting gibberish, and fell over.

"TOM!" William yelled. I whirled over to him and aimed my gun. The last Troll stood still. He looked confused and bewildered as I debated shooting him. There was no reason not to, and I could hear Gandalf rustling in the bushes ahead.

"Untie them," I demanded, motioning to the Dwarves roasting in the fire. They had to be released soon or otherwise continue revolving, lest Dwalin and Bofur, who were facing the fire, scorch and charr. William hesitated, and I shot his leg. "Untie them!"

He cried out. Terrified, William lifted the stake with astounding strength and hacked at the ropes with an oddly shaped weapon. Several moments later the Dwarves fell to the ground. William looked at me worriedly. I felt a twinge of pity, despite everything that had happened. Without his friends William looked like a sad, lost, horrendously hideous puppy. He then sneezed unexpectedly and a stream of slimy snot spilled from his nostrils. Startled, I almost shot my gun again but held myself back. William wouldn't give us trouble and it was best not to waste the bullets. Literally any minute now...Come on Gandalf…

"Sit," I ordered. William obeyed without hesitation.

I looked out towards the trees. The Dwarves who William released stood there, dazed. The situation turned awkward, with everyone just sort of standing there, but there wasn't much to do. Keeping my gun and eyes aimed at William I spoke in the freed Dwarve's direction. "Come over here and start untying them," I said.

"Do as she says," Thorin said.

The Dwarves looked at each other and muttered amongst themselves, heading over. I noticed they eyed me warily, but I also detected awe. Good. Perhaps after this I would finally get their respect. The thought excited me. Restless, I looked at William and made to say something witty, but Gandalf interrupted, finally making his appearance.

"The Dawn will take you!" He exclaimed, striking a nearby towering rock in half. One of it's sides fell over and a stream of sunlight spilled through the gap, bathing the grounds in a soft golden glow.

William cried out but there was nothing he could do. His skin stared to sizzle and shrink. He flailed wildly but soon found his skin cracking and himself unable to move. I returned my gun to the holster on my thigh as William hardened into stone, along with the two Troll corpses.

**_And Thus Ends Natasha's First Brush With Danger._**

**_The Shadows can Only Grow Darker,_**

**_The Road Sloping High._**


	7. I am Not a God

_(AN: I hope you guys liked the Troll scene! But it can only bring about new questions...and Concerns...) _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

**I am Not a God**

* * *

><p><strong>Brentbrook Talent<strong>

"That was incredible!" Kili exclaimed, laughing with disbelief. "Two! You killed _two_ Cave Trolls!"

I laughed and blinked in the bright sunlight. Never had I been so awed by the coming of dawn. I had seen sunrises before and experienced that wonder and inspiration one has when watching the world wake up. In fact, I was no stranger to it. But as with everything else Middle Earth had to offer, and considering the fortune it just brought us, this particular dawn was inexplicably striking. It was a rising melody, with birdsong building in avidity and whispering winds slowly turning soft and warm and sunlight gently acceding on the trees. The day was young and breathtaking.

The last of the Dwarves were untied and the Company was bursting with energy. At the time, I wasn't thinking ahead, but my heroism with the Trolls was still in effect afterwards. The Dwarves were impressed beyond belief and treated me with newfound respect. I tried to be modest about it, but how humble could you be after utterly destroying two Cave Trolls. Like, seriously, _two freaking Cave Trolls._ Then again, all credit was due to the gun. Without it I assumed everything would have gone down how it did in the films and book. I had to remind myself this world was ignorant of guns and the technology I carried with me from my world, which I began to refer to as "Brentbrook" even in my mind, however false that name was. To the Dwarves Brentbrook was a region far away but really it was a small neighborhood, a small suburban district in Maryland state.

Come to think of it, too Brentbrook my actions really wouldn't be considered insane. Anyone with a gun could have killed the trolls. Literally everything the Dwarves credited me with was only possible because of my weapon. And my simple handgun was an arbitrary defense compared to the bombs and missiles and WMDs in "Brentbrook". Of course I didn't tell them that. The Dwarves were treating me like a warrior goddess or something. They had never seen anything like it before.

"Do not forget Bilbo!" I said, trying to give the Hobbit some of the fame. "Without the time he gave me we would have been eaten too soon." I turned to him and gave him a smile of awe. He needed some of the credit. I felt as if I stole it from him- originally he was the only hero with the Trolls. "Really, Bilbo, you were fantastic."

To my relief the Dwarves gave Bilbo their praise and patted him on the back. Amid the excitement Dwalin walked over to me and slapped my shoulder proudly. I tried not to buckle under the weight as he gave me the smallest smile and said, "Welcome."

I grinned. He addressed me gruffly but that was simply his personality. It was a short and simple word, but coming from him, especially after our fight from last night, the context it held was beyond valuable. I tried to contain my gratitude- finally, even Dwalin recognized my worth. I had gained his respect as a warrior. I nodded my head in acknowledgment.

I turned my head towards Gandalf and Thorin. It irritated me that Thorin didn't show as much appreciation as the other Dwarves. I figured my outburst at him the other day deserved some of the blame. I considered apologizing- I _was_ completely out of line. However I did notice a difference in Thorin than from the movies in the Troll after math. He seemed less bristled, and I supposed that was a good sign.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" He asked Gandalf.

"To look ahead," the wizard answered.

"What brought you back?"

"Looking behind," Gandalf said, and I caught him winking at me. "Nasty business. Still, they are all in one piece," he added, speaking of the Company, while knocking his staff against William's statued back.

"Natasha…" Thorin said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. I quickly looked away and pretended to be busy with the other Dwarves in gathering our weapons, but I continued eavesdropping. Thorin seemed to search for words he couldn't find.

"Killed the Trolls, yes. An astounding feat. She saved all your lives."

"But how did she do it?"

"That is something you must ask her," Gandalf said. "You never should have underestimated her. And do not forget Bilbo, our Young Master Burglar. He played a bigger part than any of you. He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that."

"Are you offering me insult?" Thorin asked, although I didn't sense any open hostility.

"I am showing you the truth. You should not doubt Bilbo and Natasha's worth in this quest. Their services are quite invaluable."

Gandalf turned to examine William and the bodies of the two dead Trolls, which had also shriveled to stone. "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors."

"Where on earth did you find a weapon like that?" A Dwarf asked from behind me. I whirled around to face Bofur. His question attracted the attention of the other Dwarves, and my spying on Thorin and Gandalf was interrupted. "That was unbelievable!"

I smiled and shook my head. "I feel that you have under estimated me! I told you before. I am a warrior of many tricks and might."

"That was no measly trick," Balin said.

"It was magic! Of the sorts Gandalf can do," Dori said.

I considered for a moment the repercussions of playing along to that. But I decided pretending to be some kind of Wizard was beyond stupid. I would eventually find myself in a situation only enchantments can solve, and when I couldn't preform the Dwarves would see that I lied to them. No, that wouldn't do at all. "No no, it was not magic."

"You shattered their skulls!" Kili exclaimed. "A deafening bang, and their heads were completely demolished!"

"You all sound so surprised!" I said, putting my hands on my hips. "I lack your strength but make up for it with Brentbrook Talent. I suppose you can call me a badass! A Brentbrook expression for an audacious warrior." I held back a laugh as I held my head high and proud. Badass...that was a good line. I pulled out my gun from it's holster, double checked the safety, and held it out for them to see. Somehow Thorin noticed as well and I had the attention of the entire company. "It is called a gun. I might have described it before. It is a powerful weapon capable of severe destruction."

The Dwarves reach out to touch it, but I pulled back. "Be careful! It is dangerously temperamental. It is no sword that can be held and wielded by any user," I warned. _Damn_ that was a good excuse to keep them away from it.

"Have you any other "tricks" we should know?" Thorin asked.

I gave him a wry smile. "I always have tricks." I returned the gun to it's holster, which I now realized needn't be hidden under loose clothing anymore. I avoided Thorin's eye. I didn't want to go further into detail about what other surprises I kept from them. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't too keen on the idea of revealing my pepper spray and tazer. I was certain Kili would be a little buttface and steal it, and then I would have to explain to Thorin why his nephew's eyes were inflamed and temporarily blind. That was not a conversation I wanted to have.

I knew the answer wouldn't satisfy him, but before he could respond Gandalf cleared his throat, and Thorin changed topics. "Yes. These Trolls are meant for caves and shelters from sunlight. There must be a cave nearby. We return to the campsite and will pack our things. The morning will be spent searching for their cave."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~A Culture Unheard of<strong>_

A small part of me hoped to find something magical in the Troll's cave. An Elvish sword with special properties, a stone or ring with a secret. But I wasn't so lucky; this was Middle Earth, after all. Magical items don't come raining from the sky. And when they do, they aren't of the sort one would expect. Or even want, really. This wasn't an anime, or some cliché world were magic fire swords were a common thing and Wizards mulled on every street corner. Tolkien gave this world more than that. He gave Middle Earth life, gave it reason and sense. He didn't take the "Brentbrook" world and think, "_how can I make it better?" _or "_let's add magic." _No, Tolkien played god. He stripped our world of everything until in his hands he held only a concept; a physical world inhabited by life. From that, he built a new world, gave it a new history and origin and physical law. Tolkien thought _everything_ through; from the languages to the individual races to the historical background of each of those races. There are characters, no, people, historical figures, who were perhaps mentioned once in all of his literary works but were still given names and legacy. And just like a god wouldn't want to allow his/her people unadulterated, raw and unmolded power, or in other words, magic, Tolkien set very strict rules for his world. He took dry sand and with the water of his mind built a universe, whereas most authors carve their stories from stone. Middle Earth wasn't his playground. It was his child.

So no, I didn't find a magical artifact of power. I did find a thrifty Elvish dagger and a blow horn similar to Boromir's, though. I left the cave with both in hand and heavier treasure-filled pockets. Nothing more, nothing less. I was satisfied, although tried not to dwell to long on how those items came to be in the Troll's cave.

And just like that, we resumed our journey, however more cautiously. The morning after the Cave Troll incident was energetic and excited. The adrenalin of the night together with the elation of my feat distracted from out exhaustion. However soon the buzz began to settle the consequences of a sleep deprived night bore down on our shoulders. Dwarves are a sturdy and stout people who could swim through the hardship and suffer only discomfort. I, however, was not a Dwarf, and experienced something a hell of a lot stronger than discomfort. I sat hunched on my pony and fought against the weight tearing at my eyelids. I used what little distractions I had to avoid drifting off; I reloaded my gun, sanitized the horn's mouthpiece and readjusted the laces on my right shoe to give a secure pocket for my dagger. In total all three took about a half hour, as my fingers were numb and my mind lazy. After that it was a matter of not seeming rude when the Dwarves asked for more stories and told some in turn. It was draining, and I did more nodding than actual listening. Bilbo was in the same boat as me, but he had less stories to share and did little talking.

We were on the topic of family. The Dwarves took their turns going through their lines up to their grandfathers. Only Gloin and the brothers Fili and Kili had much interesting to say, as the film had acknowledged their family relations more strongly then the other Dwarves. A thought spreading through my mind, I shook my head awake and listened intently. This world followed the movies, but too what extant? And, just..._why?_

These thoughts bothered me but I hadn't the time to dwell on them yet. Instead I continued the conversation. "So, theoretically you all have family ties with each other, yes?"

Bofur nodded. "For the most part. Either through family or history."

"Nori and Dori are my brothers," Ori said, "Bofur and Bombor are brothers and Bifur their cousin, Oin and Gloin and Dwalin and Balin are distant relatives in Durins line, actually.'

"Is that why you are here then?" I asked. "What is this fight for you?"

"I would think that obvious," Kili said.

"Yes, for you and Fili there's no question to be asked. Nephews of Thorin and heirs to his throne. Dwalin and Balin have a history more personal to this quest; they and Oin and Gloin fought with Thorin in the Battle of Dimrill Dale. But Bofur, what of you and your brother? And Ori and your brothers? You are hailers of Moria, not the Lonely Mountain."

To this Bifur growled a string of non-articulate noises. I looked to the Dwarves for a translation but Bofur shook his head and laughed. "I have no idea," he said.

"Bifur is a descendent of the Lonely mountain, yes?" Fili asked.

"Yes, his family were of those driven out by Smaug as well," Bofur said. "They come to dwell with us in Khazad-dûm. You know, Moria. As for why I am hear? I cannot speak for Ori, Nori and Dori, but it is a simple answer for me. Thorin called for a gathering of a Company and I responded. Dwarves need not be related to call one another family."

"If that is the case would there not be more here?" I asked.

"Well," Bofur said, "living near Bifur's side out under the Blue Mountains gave us more cause. I would say his family's grudge on Smaug wore off on us." Bofur laughed. I could only imagine a relative, perhaps a parent, of Bifur ranting off about Smaug in a fierce and ruthless voice Dwarves so often have. The image gave me a smile, and I thought of Bard as well. A Tumblr post I read once expressed the possibility of Lake Down referring to Smaug only with a solemn nod in the mountain's direction, but Bard would look directly at it and mutter under his breath "_mother f*cker._" My smile widened- for whatever reason picturing that made me so happy. I love sassy Bard. "We also just wanted to see the world," Ori said. "Khazad-dûm is my home as well, but living under the mountains certainly keeps us from daylight. I had a thirst for adventure!" He punched the air.

The Dwarves around him responded with hearty laughter and a chorus of "aye"s.

"Yes, that would be it as well," Bofur agreed.

"_That_ I understand," I said. My entire childhood was waiting for my Hogwarts acceptance letter or for Gandalf to come knocking on my door and whisk me off. How funny, that the most unrealistic dream of mine ended up the one to come true.

"And what of you, Natasha?" Balin asked, after having been quiet for most of the conversation. "Have you any family waiting in Brentbrook?"

"And what is this fight for you?" Fili asked.

"Those are two questions far apart from each other," I said. "If you do not mind I will answer Balin's first; it is much easier. Yes, I do. A mother and father, a younger sister and brother. Cousins, aunts and uncles, friends that may as well be family- I have many waiting back at home. An entire life put on hold."

"What is your fathers profession?" Ori asked.

"He is an archeologist. He studies the ruined remains of ancient peoples and...kingdoms...long lost to time and dust. He would love it here, actually. There is so much history." Of course, that history was completely accessible to him and all others from "Brentbrook", so perhaps not. Still, even so, those that are already discovered can still be studied. Simply holding a stone or object that was touched by a man thousands of years earlier gave him a high. Although his work was usually in a lab or classroom. He examined remains unearthed by others and rarely did any digging himself. "My mother works as well, actually. She is a law enforcer. A...um...A soldier of the people? She finds criminals and locks them away."

"Your mother? Is female labor common in Brentbrook?" Bilbo asked.

"Oh yes. It wasn't always, but yes now it is."

"That is...interesting," Dori said, apparently having joined the conversation. I had lost track a while ago. So...damn...tired.

"School is a great and important thing as well," I said, changing the topic. I really didn't have the energy or patience to explain the women's rights movement to a group of Dwarves. "I believe I have already mentioned it. All children are required an education. Writing and reading are of the first skills taught. For years we study histories, languages, sciences; the classes depend on location and there are different types of schools. But that isn't an interesting topic I would like to get into." I was out on an adventure. Like with Summer Vacation I had no interest in even thinking about school.

"Children are educated in all fields?" Balin asked, either impressed or doubtful.

"Yes, more or less."

"What of combat?" Kili asked.

"It is neglected, unfortunately," I answered. "War is not fought with swords and arrows, not for a long time, and the techniques are not deemed so important. At least in my region."

"But you are trained," Fili noted.

"Combat skills are not taught directly in schools, however there are other options. One can hire an instructor or join an additional, extra class after the school day ends. There are many subjects schools neglect for the first...thirteen years I would say, but learning is not restricted to school. I attended a class for a specific form of fighting since my early years. You would not have heard of it. It is called kenjutsu."

"You are right," Fili said. "The name is lost on me."

"It sounds like a sneeze," Kili said. I laughed, then yawned widley.

"Let her be," Thorin said from ahead. "The endurance of man is not like our kind, and the night was long"

"It does feel rather late," Bilbo said.

"It is hardly after Noon," Kili laughed.

"Yes, but I have been up all night fighting Trolls, in case you forgot," I said lightly.

"Fighting, and killing," Fili said.

The Dwarves started to disperse and wander away from me. I was grateful- I couldn't exactly sleep on my pony but I could let my mind float away and day dream. I looked at Fili, regretful that I never answered his question. But I simply didn't want to bother with it now. It was for the best anyways- I didn't want to give him some crappy and thoughtless answer. I wanted to do some self-evaluation first, because in all honesty I had many reasons to be there, but none stood stronger and taller than the rest. And besides I couldn't exactly say I was trying to prevent his and Kili's death. That was, like, exactly what I wasn't supposed to do. So I shrugged my shoulders and apologized. "Later, Fili, I can explain my place here."

He nodded and broke ahead with Kili towards the head of the pack. I was alone with Bilbo, and we both came to the wordless agreement to simply stare ahead towards the dusty path's horizon in silence.

What _was_ my place there. It was an uncomfortable thought that disturbed my mind and weighed it down to the ground. My entire involvement in the Quest, my being in Middle Earth at all, went against all science and reason. I signed the contract. But even, for arguments sake, if it was real and for some reason available to me, I didn't sigh in with the intention of adventure. Would not my signature then be invalid? I didn't willingly offer my service. It was a mistake. I am not complaining, of course, but that factual error already made me feel an intruder on this quest and World.

My presence was changing things. Before I was unsure if that were possible but the incident with the Trolls proved my suspicions true. That could serve as a serious problem. But a question had to be asked and answered before I could know the extent of that problem. This story, this world, followed Peter Jackson's movies. Why that is was an entirely different matter and not as pressing. Peter Jackson's films were an adaptation of the book. He added characters and changed many aspects of the story. However, even with those changes, the overall plot didn't falter. Bilbo found the ring, Bard vanquished Smaug, and Thorin and Kili and Fili died in the Battle of the Five Armies. Peter Jacksons additions and subtractions didn't ruin the most important details.

Would that mean that no matter the things I change, this story will only alter so much? My presence would be an interference but not a demanding one. I killed the Trolls but Bilbo still had the wits to stall them. I tried to warn the Dwarves of the Trolls before hand but it backfired. The beginning and ending of the confrontation was the same- only the time in-between was changed. So, then, could I assume that is how the entire journey will play out? My changes of effect would not alter the cause?

But then, Peter Jackson was in control of the story the entire time. He directed the movies- was the god of the films in much the same way as Tolkien was of the books. I, on the other hand, was not in a position of control. I had utterly no clue how my actions effected the outcomes. I was blind- could I not tell Gandalf and Elrond about the ring and reset history's course? Peter Jackson could have easily done so if he wanted- it was in the realm of his capabilities to throw away The Hobbit's plot and decide his own rules. He didn't do so, of course, because that would have been ridiculously stupid as a film director. You do not want to piss off the Tokien Fandom.

But then, where did that leave me?

* * *

><p><strong><em>~Strangers<em>**

It was the tenth night of our journey. The night before I had crashed the moment I finished dinner, and slept soundlessly through the night. I was still tired, as it took more than one night to reestablish a sleep schedule, but it was a subtle exhaustion that didn't interfere with my day.

It was a cold night again, and the sky was hidden behind a grey expanse of cloud. Covered and obscured, the moon's silver light was dimmed and blurred, and without the assistance of stars did little to illuminate our grounds. Beyond our surrounding of trees a sliver of yellowing field could be seen, far away and covered in shadow. Gandalf insisted our path was towards it, and I knew Rivendell was fast approaching. The clamor of distant orcs punctured through the peaceful night like claws scraping down our necks, and Thorin refused us the comforts of a fire.

It was the first night I had to wear two of my coats instead of just one, and I wore my hair down to protect my ears. Without a campfire the night was not only cold but solemn as well. There were no merry songs or jovial laughter, as the Dwarves' awareness of the Orc pack evolved into legitimate concern. More of our nights were spent with the howls and wailings than without, and the Dwarves began to see it as more than mere coincidence.

"Could our trail be followed?" Bilbo asked. "Are we being hunted?"

"Did anyone tell of our quest?" Thorin asked the group. "Give word to any but a Dwarf?"

No one answered, but began eyeing each other suspiciously. Thorin looked at Bilbo. "Have you anything to say?"

Bilbo looked startled. "Me? Why do you automatically assume it was my fault?"

"Answer the question," Dwalin said.

"When would I have had the chance? You think in between my frenzied packing and rushing to catch up, I stopped at a tavern for a drink?" He said angrily.

"No one else would be so naive," Nori said.

"If you are going to pick on Bilbo you will accuse me as well," I said. "He is no worse than I."

"You? But you-" Kili said, but I interrupted.

"I what? Killed two Trolls? What does that prove? You are confusing strength with wisdom."

"You are right," Thorin said. "Your stunt with the Trolls should not excuse you from blame. Did you tell anyone?"

I faltered. "Of course not."

"This is getting us no where," Bofur complained.

"I would not question one of my Dwarves when a stranger lies in our midst," Thorin said.

"I am a stranger as well," I said. "And neither I nor Bilbo is to blame."

"Then who is?!" Kili exclaimed, exasperated.

"How can we be sure we are being hunted?" Bofur offered. "It may very well be a long coincidence."

To my surprise the Dwarves looked at me, waiting. I was expected to know. Crap on a Stick. Should I tell them? What harm could it do? "Yes...I believe we are being followed. But there is no telling why. It could be they are a stray pack hunting a party of unknowing travelers. There is nothing to say they know of the Quest." I was playing a dangerous game. What would happen if I told Thorin it was Azog? Would he change course and lead the fight to them? Could we all be slaughtered? Would he even believe me?

"Natasha is right," Gandalf said. "And in the very least bickering will do you more harm than good. It will not change the fact."

The Company fell silent, and the shrieks of Orcs dominated the night.

* * *

><p><strong>~Give it Time<strong>

"Bilbo?" I called out. The little Hobbit had wandered away from the camp while the Dwarves stared to turn in. He stood beneath a thin canopy of trees and was looking up at the sky.

He turned at the sound of his name and nodded to me. "I am here."

"Why are you standing here?" I asked.

"It is a lot cleaner than sitting," he said. I thought he was being serious until I saw his smile.

"It is rather muddy here," I agreed. "But I think you know what I meant."

"Well, I think you know the answer," he said. I didn't know how to reply, because he was right, I did. So I said nothing, and stood with him in silence. The Sky wasn't precious to look at, although the apparitions the moonlight formed in the clouds held an ominous beauty. After a few minutes he spoke again. "You get along with them. They laugh at your jokes. But I am not the same. They laugh at me like they do your stories."

"I am sorry," I said. I genuinely hurt for him. "Would you believe me if I said it will get better?"

"Will it, though?" He asked. "They don't like me very much." He didn't sound vulnerable or hurt, like I might have expected. Bilbo was a strong and capable character, in his own way. He might be small but he wasn't a mouse.

"They risked their lives for you," I reminded him. "Kili, he jumped into the Troll's campsite before it was wise to do so. And if it were you caught by the Troll instead of me, I _know_ they would have still laid down their weapons."

"I do not doubt they don't wish me ill," he said. "But I am a burden to them. I don't belong here, Natasha. I belong in the Shire under my hill. I have a home were I am welcomed. I don't know why I threw it away for Dwarves who do not."

"Were you not excited when you ran to catch us? You left on a whim but I know you were excited to do so. You might be a Baggins but you are also a Took. When Bandobras heard of a Shire invasion not yet threatening to his own home he left straight away. He knew the pleasures of home and would fight so that others could keep theirs."

"I am not Bandobras," Bilbo said. "I am not five and four feet. I do not have the strength to decapitate a Goblin. What I do have is skill at the game Conkers and not much else."

"Nonsense!" I said. "You had the wits to stall the Trolls. You had the courage to risk your life for two horses. You have many things that you do not give yourself credit for." I kicked at the grass and smiled. "I will agree, however, that there are things you do not have. For example you do not have your handkerchief."

Bilbo chuckled. "That I do not." He was silent for a few moments, and then, "Thank you, by the way. For standing up for me."

"You didn't deserve the accusations. It was nothing"

"No, it wasn't. You didn't have to do that, but you did. It meant a lot."

"It will pass, you know," I said. "The Dwarves will warm up to you, that I promise. Do not think anything of tonight. We are tired and it was in the heat of the moment. You are not a fighter, and Thorin feels responsible for your safety. It is a burden he does not want, nor does he need." Thorin was the leader of the Company. He had to be a King for them, a teacher for Fili and a father for Kili. Thorin had to be a great deal of things that did not go hand in hand. And so when he had to choose between being a father or a leader, a leader or a Dwarf, and a warrior or a king, Thorin had to deal with both the weight of his burden and the guilt of neglecting the other duty. His position was bursting with responsibilities, and having an untrained and innocent Hobbit's life on his hands was the last thing he needed.

"You are saying that's the reason he didn't accuse you?"

"Absolutely. I have proven I am capable of taking care of myself, and so Thorin does not give me much notice anymore. You will prove yourself, I am sure, and gain his trust. Do not leave us yet."

"Leave? Who said anything about leaving?" He asked.

"No one. Some things can be seen without words," I said. Bilbo's face well and I quickly added "Oh, I am sure no one else has noticed. Give it no thought. The Dwarves noticing, I mean."

"Very well. I don't want to go back necessarily. I signed away my service and want to see this through. If only to prove I can."

"Prove you can…" I shook my head and smiled. I used to say that- all the time actually. When ever any one doubted me, or told me I best not try something, it only further fueled my determination. I would be taken by a new shiny object and become simply infatuated with it- archery, the guitar, the piano, drawing, horse back riding, (the list goes on and on), all things I desperately wanted to master at one time or another. Some my parents entertained and some they straight out refused. It was understandable- I sure as hell wouldn't want to pay for a new instrument every three months. Usually my impulsion would pass on quickly. It was when I was openly doubted, however, that I didn't give up so easily. "_You don't have enough experience to write a book," "You don't have the musical talent to play the clarinet," "you don't have the patience to learn to draw" "You'll give it up in a heartbeat,"-_ all things that were very true, but pissed me off nonetheless. Gosh darnnit, I hated when people told me "no". I would either smile or growl (most usually the latter) and say "we'll see."

They always ended up right in the end, of course. I have yet to finish a book or a painting and my clarinet skills are nothing short of nonexistent. I'm quickly inspired but easily bored. But in the moment, I had enough determination that could push a mountain. Just to prove to all those skeptics that I damn well could.

"Could I see Sting for a moment?" I asked him.

Bilbo looked at me strangely. "Sting? What- I don't know what that means."

Oh crap. That's right. I sucked in a breath. Crap crap crap crap crap. He didn't name the sword yet. "Sting? I didn't say Sting…" I winced. That wasn't convincing in the slightest. Thank the Lord the night was too dark for Bilbo to see my reddening face. I mentally ran through a list of rhymes- _sting; ming, king, ling, ding, wing, zing, swing, chikaling_- "Thing!" I cleared my throat. "Sorry, I said thing. I mean I may have said sting but I meant thing. I'm incredibly tired. You know," I pretended to grasp for words. "Your, ah, thing, from the cave," I mimed swinging a sword.

"Do you mean...my dagger?" Bilbo asked uncertainly, probably amazed at how stupid that was.

"Yes! Dagger- ...that is in fact the word I was looking for... " I restrained myself from smacking my forehead. That was unacceptably close. "Um...could I see it?"

"Sure...oh, yes," he faltered, before unsheathing not-yet-named from his side. He handed it to me and I forced myself to remain standing and calm.

I held it like a cherished and holy artifact. It's metal pierced through the black air like a mirror beneath the airy moon. It was a pathetic little thing, tiny and hardly deserving of the title sword. But it was _Sting. _Not some cruddy toy or outrageously priced replica- the blade resting on my palms was genuine and pure, and radiated with that bright and unadulterated shine only a true Elvish blade could possess. I felt tears burning my eyes. It was _real_.

"Are you alright?" Bilbo asked.

I looked at him, startled. "Yes, um, of course. I'm just...incredibly tired. I still have not entirely recovered from the, uh...the Trolls."

"I can understand that."

"It is of beautiful make," I said, handing him the weapon. "Perfect for a Hobbit."

"I know nothing of swords. I cannot fight with it."

"Pray you do not have to."

"That is what Gandalf said."

I laughed. "I am sure he did. And he is right."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Bilbo said, returning the dagger it it's sheath.

I said nothing of the impending Orc ambush. If I were to warn anyone it would be Thorin, or Gandalf. Certainly not Bilbo, who couldn't do anything about it. I had a plan, one that wouldn't be too suspicious or unbelievable. I only hoped it wouldn't be too late, or too disruptive of everything else...Bilbo and I said goodnight- he refused to hold me up any longer and insisted I get some rest. What a polite little cutie.

I returned to our dour campsite. I looked back, and Bilbo was still alone and far away, gazing at the starless sky. I sighed- there was only so much I could do.

"Natasha?" Someone whispered behind me. I turned to see Gandalf, perched on a crescent-curved stone. At my distance his face was cast in the shadow of his hat, and only the tips of his robe spilled far enough away to reach the small pool of moonlight by his feet. He beckoned me with his fingers.

I rubbed my eyes and went to him. "Yes?"

"Am I keeping you? There is something we must discuss...Before tomorrow."

Tomorrow. _Rivendell._ I took an uneasy breath. The emotional reaction I felt from holding Not-Yet-Sting was phenomenal...But Rivendell...Would I just drop dead from a hysteric overload? I didn't even consider the Troll scene as the mark of my adventure. Rivendell...That would be when things became real...I had so many choices to make, a story to decide on. What I resolved in Rivendell would determine my entire quest. _Our _entire quest. I looked at Gandalf, his eyes a blue spark shielding centuries of secrets and powers. I didn't lie to Bilbo- I really was exceptionally tired. But there was some tugging force I felt from Gandalf's ever-present _light_ that always seemed to awaken some small part of me.

I forced down a yawn. "I was about to go to sleep. Is it important?"

"Very. But I suppose you need your rest...for tomorrow. I will speak with you in the morning then. But it cannot delay any further."

I looked at him uneasily. "Am I...in trouble or something?" I couldn't help but sense...the slightest hint of an accusing tone in his voice.

"No," he said amid an exhale. "Not yet, anyways. Go along then, have your sleep. There is not an easy road ahead of us."

I waited a moment, studying him uncertainly. But his face gave nothing except that our conversation was finished. "Oh...uh, ok then." I turned around slowly, waiting for him to stop me, but he merely looked to the ground and took out his pipe. Feeling confused, and sightly rejected, I turned my back to him.

"Oh, and Natasha?" Gandalf called out again.

I sighed. Did he wait for that intentionally? I looked back.

"Your..."tricks"...Do not use them so lightly." Apparently finished, with that irritatingly vague warning Gandalf returned to his pipe.

I grumbled and returned to the circle of slumbering, or otherwise respectfully silent, Dwarves and curled up by my things. It was a while before I managed to drift off. My mind was too confused, too busy dissecting that brief and perplexing conversation. _"Do not use them so lightly." _What...What did he mean by that?

**_Rivendell Lies Ahead,_**

**_A Shining Light Amidst the Darkness,_**

**_But One Must Remember,_**

**_All That is Gold Does Not Glitter._**


	8. Attack of the Orcs

_(AN: Ok, wow this is a long chapter. xD So some of you might notice- I condensed the 23 short chapters into 8 long ones. I received some advice on doing so, having longer chapters. But this means posting might be even slower- the updates will be packed with events but will come less often. Also, due to the insanity that is my school, until my exams are over (next Wednesday) I probably won't have the time to write any more. :( But stay tuned! ^.^ )_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

**Attack of the Orcs**

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Technology is for the Vile<strong>_

The next morning I woke up slowly. It was odd, because I was warm and comfortable. There was no breeze on my face and for one slight moment I thought I was home. But for some reason I didn't want to open my eyes- some subconscious instinct told me to stay still and quiet. It was curious, and I stirred, stretching out my legs. I wasn't on a bed.

Oh. _Oh..._Right. I peeked my eyes open to see my dragon tapestry glowing and backlit by the sun. The warmth came from my two coats and I was comfortable because the muddy earth beneath my bedroll was a soft difference from the stiff dry ground of the last few days. Or, perhaps I was just getting used to it all.

It was a moment of sleepy forgetfulness, and faded within a heartbeat. Still, it brought back the memory of home, of my idiosyncratic bedroom that screamed nothing but "me", my clean sheets and silver shower head, my jeans and hiking shoes, my monkey Mumu, my mom and my dad. For the first time in ten days I suffered from homesickness. I missed my family and the comforts of modern technology. I missed the leather seating in my dad's car and how fast I could travel on my bike. I missed my siblings, despite how irritating they could be, and I missed my two cats. I missed it _all_. How long would it be until I saw them again?

I had to remind myself that to see my house again would mean the end of my adventure. I felt hollow and...wrong, without the life I left behind, but it was a small pain, cramped beside my utter happiness and thankfulness for being where I was. I mean, come on, I was in _Middle Earth_ for God's sake. And I would keep telling myself that until I finally believed it, because it was just so darn incredible.

I took a slow and quiet breath, deliberate enough that no one could hear it. Today was the day. Freaking _Rivendell_ lay ahead, across a bridge of Radaghast and Orcs. I just...holy crap...Because, like, _Rivendell__**.**_

But, right. Radaghast and the Orcs. I had learned my lesson with the Trolls- there was no use timing an oncoming attack. I would have to do this carefully; to warn them incorrectly meant their suspicions and doubts. To not warn them at all meant their doubts for my "psychic abilities". I had to do this right- that's why I woke up with the subtle instinct to keep my eyes closed. Because I had a plan and wasn't going to bother dwelling on it any longer.

I closed my eyes. It was a coincidence but waking up with my tapestry over my head was damn convenient. "_Ok…"_ I thoughts to myself. "_On the count of three...One...Two...Three!"_

I jerked awake and into a sitting position, facing and glaring ahead towards the distant plains painted gold in the sun.

"Natasha?" Kili asked from somewhere behind me. I didn't risk a glance in the Dwarves' direction- my attention had to seem entirely on the plains.

"Are you all right?" Fili asked.

"Orcs," I said.

Boy, that did it. The Dwarves jumped to their feet and scrambled for their weapons. To a stranger's eye their order might seem jumbled and confused, with the Dwarves running in all directions, but I was slowly learning how efficient they all were. If they grabbed someone else's weapon, they tossed it over their shoulders with nothing but a shout of the rightful owner's name, who would then catch it with little effort. They could pack their own things and each others without pausing to figure who's was what.

"How far?" Thorin asked. "And how many?"

Still looking beyond the forest greens, I slowly stood to my feet. I took my time in answering, and the moment of impulsive panic passed. All the Dwarves stopped their chaotic clambering and stood silently. I had everyone's attention.

I slumped my shoulders and exhaled slowly. "I...I can't be sure. They are not close...But they are close enough." I turned around and looked at Thorin. "We will encounter them today."

"I say, let them come!" Ori said.

"We can take them," Bombor said.

"I've been itching to bash an Orc in for seven years!" Gloing cried.

"Hmph hiynah kluandhuofuhenr," was what I think Bifur said.

"Silence," Thorin demanded. "Or have you learned nothing. It is no laughing matter." He turned to Gandalf. "Is there no other path?"

The Wizard thought silently. "No…I'm afraid forward is our only way. However there is a shortcut ahead, but we must move quickly if we're to make it.

"You heard him," Thorin shouted. "Pack up! You have three minutes."

As the Dwarves scrambled I rolled up my tapestry and bedroll and tied them to the face of my backpack. "Carry all your necessities," I called out amidst the chaos. "We can't rely on our ponies to survive the trip."

We were finished and packed impressively fast. There was some debate for our rides- if we should leave them or risk our speed for their services. Personally, I had grown attached to my pony- I named her Whisky after her color and like Bilbo snuck her treats when the Dwarves weren't looking. So I stayed quiet because of my biased opinion and tried to occupy myself with something else. I checked my gun and was pondering on whether or not to make my tazer more accessible to me when Thorin made the decision.

"Leave them. They will have more chance in the wild than against an Orc pack, anyways."

I suppressed a groan. I had half a mind to make up some crap "seer" excuse for them to stay, but I held my tongue. It would be an inappropriate use of my "psychic" credibilities, and Thorin was right besides. To an Orc pack Whiskey was dinner. To the wilderness she stood some chance of finding shelter; of surviving. So I turned to her and stroked her forehead and said a hasty goodbye.

"That hardly seems a good chance either way," I muttered, hacking at Whisky's saddle bindings with my Elven dagger.

"It's a shame. They were good horses," Fili said, walking up to me and straightening his jacket. His every step sung with the clinking of metal. I wondered exactly how many weapons he carried with him.

"Aye," I said, giving one last tug on the ropes. My blade sliced through the wrappings and with a half-hearted shove Whiskey's saddle slipped off. "Farewell, and good luck, my friend." I leaned in close and kissed her muzzle. _May the Force be ever in your favor, _I thought silently. I little confused quote I used to say, for the sole purpose of ticking off my friends.

Not wanting to dwell on the matter longer I turned away from her with one last pat. Fili was beside me, finished first of the Dwarves. Thorin was altering between shouting at the Company to hurry up and glancing nervously towards the yellow fields. I wondered if we would reach Rivendell before encountering the Orcs- if my advanced warning would mean any difference.

"We are ready, uncle," Kili said.

I scanned our campsite and sighed deeply. Three minutes wasn't enough to erase evidence of our presence- the remains of our early-blown fire were smashed and kicked about in a crude attempt to hide it. Scattered about the grounds were pots and pans, grimy from residue stew and a clustered tangle of all things discarded. Without the packing convenience our ponies gave us we could only carry what fit on our backs- everything else was left to lay waste in the sun and the greedy fingers of woodland scavengers. It was a disrespectful mess to leave behind, but we had no choice.

"Very well," Thorin said, clearly just as displeased with the grounds. "We move fast, and steady. Keep your weapons at the ready, and ears listening for horns or any din apart from our group."

"Natasha, walk ahead with me," Gandalf called out.

I looked up at my name, halting my conversation with Kili Fili and Bilbo. My stomach squirmed. Right- Gandalf had something important to tell me. I looked to my companions, shrugged, and jogged to the front of the line.

"We don't have much time," I said, glancing over my shoulder and behind our group. "Another visitor approaches near...an Old friend. He is troubled."

"Who?" Gandalf asked. He had quickened his pace to distance ourselves from the Dwarves.

"The Brown Wizard. Radaghast."

"Radaghast…" Gandalf mumbled. "Troubled you say? Of the Orcs?"

"No. Something bigger. I won't say anymore, though," I told him, "not now and not when he get's here. Not until Rivendell."

I was almost out of time. Rivendell was fast approaching and as excited as I was it's approach was a heavy burden. I was no where near deciding what I should tell, and how much. The White Council would assemble during our stay; if there was ever a good time to warn them of Sauron's uprising, it was then, when four of the most powerful beings in Middle Earth sat at the same table. I was half hoping my involvement would in some way be forced on me- if I had no option but to reveal the future to them the weight on my chest would ease. I couldn't be blamed if I didn't have a choice. Right?

"Very well then, if you insist," Gandalf said.

"Why did you call me? What is it you didn't tell me last night?" I asked him. I wouldn't bother stalling my impatience, and besides I didn't know when Radaghast would interrupt the Company. For all I knew, we had only minutes left.

The wizard thought. "I have...concerns, Natasha, and questions, of your weapon. The gun, yes?"

"Yea," I nodded.

"You spoke of it's like earlier, on the day of our departure from your world. At the time I did not know what I thought, nor did I have the time to give it any. But it never left my mind, and especially not after two nights earlier. Now, there is no way to say this lightly, because it is in fact a very serious matter, but I ask for your equanimity and honesty."

"...Alright…" I said, unsure where the conversation was heading.

"Is it of the make of man? No other forces, no other disturbance?"

"Yea. Um, yes, absalutly."

"It is a machine, the likes of which I have seen in but one place before," Gandalf said, his voice heavy with dark undertones.

"Machine?" I asked, bewildered. I stared at my hands in thought. "..._but one place before…"_

"_Oh_. Oh my god, Gandalf, no. No no no, not in the slightest," I held out my hands and stopped walking. _Saruman_. In The Lord of the Rings Saruman used technology advanced and apart from all found elsewhere in Middle Earth. He built systems and sciences that demanded Fangorn's Forest trees and polluted the air with filthy smoke. He used his inventions for dark, unsavory purposes. Sauron's military was formed on a structure of instruments and appliances unknown and stranger to the rest of Middle Earth. I didn't know what instance Gandalf referred too, but his concern was made clear; science played a deadly role in this world. Not in all instances, of course; the mechanisms designed by Dwarves were to be admired and applauded. But in most other cases technology could easily be mistaken or taken for as dark magic.

"It is not an evil weapon," I said. "I mean, it's purpose depends on the hand that holds it."

"And I believe your hand is true...However I will not lie; I am wary of you. Your actions with the Trolls were not unjust, but as a guardian of this world I cannot allow such a weapon to be overlooked."

"I would never do harm with it. Gandalf, I promise that. But I won't toss it away either. It stays by my side."

"I will not ask you to toss it away! No, that wouldn't do at all. I simply want to give you my warning. Do not use it unless absolutely necessary. Do not bring it out unless there is no choice. You must keep it secret."

"I suppose you also want me to keep it safe?" I asked lightly, smiling.

"Well, yes, I believe that would be obvious," He looked at me sternly.

"Uh...Yea. Yes, of course, of course."

"I am also undecided on whether you should show it to Elrond. On the one hand, concealing it can only bring unrest and trouble. But I am afraid others will not be as accepting, and will not share my trust in you."

"Well, you best decide quickly," I said.

"Quickly indeed," Gandalf looked back.

The forest thinned around us slowly. I brushed my hand against the holster, which I now wore openly. In preparation for Rivendell I wore my Tauriel costume and set my hair down over one shoulder. Disturbed, I shifted my leather belt and tucked the gun beneath a loose flap on the dress. It fell over the weapon in a delicate, moss-green veil and hid it from unsuspecting eyes. Despite it's covering, though, the gun's presence was now unforgiving and persistent. With every step I felt it's position shift and it's warmth against my thigh was distracting. It gave me an unease that lingered in my mind and refused to blow away.

How could I have been so careless? So thoughtless? The gun I would have brought no matter what, but it's impact and receivings in Middle Earth should have been predicted. I should have thought of it! Tolkien...His brilliant creations were a product of a scarring and horrifying war. He fought in an age when new weapons of incredible destruction was in constant introduction. His eyes were plunged into darkness and a particular light in the world he never saw again. Tolkien saw things no man should have too see.

Middle Earth was his haven where only direct and brutal force could be used in war. It was bloodier, and more barbaric, but that in a sense made it cleaner. Wars were fought with swords and arrows, and a single man could only kill one at a time. Technology posed an evil and dark presence in the books, being attributed to Sauron's control and unknown to the purer races. My gun was an intrusion, a dishonor on Tolkien and his life horrors. His sole purpose for Middle Earth was for it to be a primordial place unscathed by the atrocious inventions of our world. The Dwarves might see my gun as magic but Tolkien never did.

I felt...ashamed...for not even considering the disgrace my gun brought to Tolkien's elysium. "Gandalf, I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing, for it is-"

"Something's coming!" Thorin shouted, interrupting the Wizard's words and bringing both our attentions behind.

We whirled around and faced the path leading further into the forest.

"Stay together!" Gandalf ordered. "Hurry now. Arm yourselves."

The unsheathing of swords and knives rang over all other woodland sound. But I craned my neck and listened very closely. The Dwarves shuffled backwards, towards us, and faced the unknown threat. I heard...clomping...No, scampering- scampering and rustling, from beyond our group and behind the wild thickets and forest brush.

"He's here," I whispered. "Radaghast the Brown."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Never Trust a Wizard on Drugs<strong>_

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!"

Thundering ground and quaking stones, bursting from the thickets above the hill and spraying stray leaves like fireworks was a heard of rabbits. Giant rabbits, twitching and swift, dragging a rickety wooden chariot in which rode a wizard clad in brown. They emerged in a flash, trampling the wild brush to a ruin of twigs and stopped just short of the Company. The chariot teetered in the landing and we all jumped back cautiously.

My first thought was that Radagast the Brown looked a bit like a rabbit himself. The Dwarves stared at him in bewilderment, and he stared back with a twitch in his neck and darting eyes.

"Radagast! Radagast the Brown," Gandalf exclaimed, stepping his way between the Dwarves and walking up to meet him. "Ah. What on earth are you doing here?"

"Radagast?" Bilbo whispered. "Isn't that the wizard Gandalf spoke about?"

"I was looking for you, Gandalf," Radagast said. He fiddled his staff nervously. "Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"He comes with news," I muttered. "Dark news. But we haven't much time…" I bounced on my feet impatiently. I had no desire to run into Azog's orc pack for any length of time. I wanted to leave immediately for Rivendell and hopefully miss them entirely. In the story the Dwarves made it safely down the hidden entrance, but...Still I felt anxious. Like my fears gnawed at my insides and whispered threats of danger. How would this encounter be different from the movies? Would anything change?

"Yes?" Gandalf asked.

Radagast opened his mouth to speak, but then promptly closed it. He seemed grasping for his thoughts. Every movement of his was slow and agitated. "Oh, just give me a minute...Um...oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it."

"Is he serious?" Kili mumbled under his breath.

I couldn't take it. "His tongue! There's a stick insect on his tongue!" I rolled my eyes and looked out too the fields anxiously. Damn wizard- how does that even happen?

"A stick insect…" Gandalf muttered. Radagast raised his eyebrows and stuck out his tongue, and what do you know, I was right. What a surprise. Tentatively, Gandalf pulled the insect out of Radagast's mouth. Bilbo and Kili groaned in disgust.

Radagast peered at the bug curiously. "I wonder how that got there."

"Amazing how you caught that," Fili told me.

I looked at him and smirked. "Thanks...But don't give it much credit." I looked to the two Wizards. Gandalf, aware of our listening ears, gently pulled Radagast away to talk privately. A sudden thought occurred to me- what if I told Radagast about the White Council meeting? He was a member after all...albeit a bit...quirky? Is that the right word?

"I mean no insult, but he looks drunk off his arse," Bofur observed.

"You're half right," I muttered, shaking my head at the ground. Radagast the Brown and his infatuation with mushrooms. I smiled, remembering the movies. If the moment wasn't so dire I would have humored the old wizard. Sure, he was the one to abandon civilization and pull a Walden; 'said "screw you society" and moved to an isolated cabin in the woods. But honestly I've found myself wishing to do the same on several occasions, so I didn't feel in the position to criticize. People could be real buttheads sometimes.

"We should keep moving," Thorin said. His expression was characteristically bitter and calm, but I knew he was right and worried. He of all people deserved to hate the Orcs. He of all people understood this was not a time for wasting precious seconds.

I caught Gandalf's eye and motioned hastily. But his eyes narrowed and I felt suddenly vulnerable. That's right- the two of them were talking about the Necromancer. No doubt Gandalf had questions for me, but the look he gave me was...hostile. Why?

A horrifying howl pierced through the sky. I jumped in surprise. Bilbo looked up at the fields, startled, and the Dwarves bristled.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo asked. "Are there- are there wolves out there?"

We all turned in different directions, eyeing the trees nervously. "Wolves? No, that is not a wolf…" Bofur said.

"They're not supposed to be here yet...We...We left early!" I rambled. "How did they catch up so soon?"

A cracking noise, much like the splitting of bone, came from the brush towards the fields. "LOOK OUT!" Someone shouted, just as a hideous Warg leapt from the nearby crag. It pounced onto Bombor and the Dwarves erupted in cries and yells. I dart forward to strike it, but someone grabbed my arm. Instead it was Thorin who slashed Orcrist into it's snout and throat. I whirled around. A second Warg snarled and dashed into our circle.

"Gandalf-" I exclaimed, bewildered and thrumming with adrenalin. He was gripping my forearm tightly, restraining me from joining the fight. My mind raced and swarmed with a confusion of thoughts- the adrenaline in my blood was taking effect. I fought against the forceful instinct to shut down my brain and give my body control. I couldn't afford to fall into a blackened depth- I needed my knowledge and thoughts now more than ever. With all the mental strength I could muster I fought against my adrenalin and met Gandalf's eyes.

He looked furious. "_What are you not telling me."_

"Not…? No, I-" I stammered, but was cut short. Something knocked into me and threw me onto the forest ground, screeching. Amidst the chaotic collision I saw an arrow slice through the air where I just stood.

"Sorry, sorry," Fili rambled, rolling to his feet and with stupendous strength pulling me up as well. He had pushed me out of the arrow's path. He turned to Gandalf. "Whatever it is you have to say- there are a thousand other times that would be better than right now."

Gandalf stared at him. "You have no idea..." He began, but then decided better of it. He sighed irritably and gave me a _look. _A _I'm-not-done-with-you_ look.

"Warg-Scouts!" Thorin growled, snatching our attention. "Which means the Orc pack is not far behind."

"Pack? Pack!" Bilbo exclaimed. He looked at me- I couldn't tell if he was bitter, angry, agitated or terrified. He seemed all four at once. "Did he say pack? I heard him say pack."

Gandalf strode away, leaving me behind and befuddled. "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf asked him harshly.

"No one," Thorin said. I shook my head in thought- we had gone over that already. Why did Gandalf think it so important, now, of all times?

"Who did you tell?" The wizard demanded.

"No one, I swear," Thorin insisted. "What in Durin's name is going on?" The Dwarf sounded worried, but not frazzled or frightened. He was a leader, mature and dignified.

"You are being hunted," Gandalf answered simply.

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin snarled.

I felt short of breath and gasped for air. "This instant," I added.

"We can't!" Ori cried out from above the hill. "We have no ponies; we set them loose."

Radagast puffed out his chest. "I'll draw them off."

Gandalf looked at him seriously. "These are Gundabad Wargs. They will outrun you."

Radagast smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously. I knew he wasn't about to use magic, but with that look on his face, that determined, ferociously amused glare and curled smile, I suddenly saw his power. That is to say, the nervous, fidgety brown clad rabbit transformed into a devious wizard right before my eyes. "These are Rhosgobel Rabbits. I'd like to see them try."

I hurried forward as Radagast mounted his chariot. "Wait!" He looked at me oddly as I reached his ride, an eyebrow arched. I leaned in close and muttered, "Rivendell. Do not ask how or why there is no time, but the White Council will meet there within the next two days."

He stared at me with a startled and befuddled expression. "Who even are you?" He asked.

"I, I just told you- never mind. Just, just try and be there. Please, trust me."

A cruel horn bellowed in the distance. "Radagast!" Gandalf called out.

The man jumped and looked up, startled. "Yes yes of course! Apologies, my lady, but I must be off!" He whipped his reigns and the rabbits darted forwards. The chariot lurched and jumped over the bumps in the ground and was quickly dragged out of sight.

"Gandalf? Which way?" Thorin asked.

"The short cut. It is our only option."

An arrow whistled through the air and stabbed a nearby tree with a thunk. Arrows? That wasn't...supposed to happen...I held my sword defensively and stared at it's direction. My breath was ragged. Arrows...Now...That wasn't in the movies...

"Natasha!" Fili said, grabbing my arm and dragging me along. I snapped out of my thoughts and back into reality. The Dwarves were tearing through the forest trees with Gandalf in the lead. "Come on!"

I nodded absently and hurried forward. Kili was waiting for us at the top of the hill. "Something is wrong," I muttered as we reached him and ran ahead with the Company. Stray branches and thorns tore at my cheeks and ankles, but I could give them no thought.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Kili said.

"No, it is more than just the orc pack."

The forest had fallen behind us, it's lush greens and shade replaced suddenly by the dry banalities of grassless meadows. The sun glared at our backs though provided little warmth, and the earth was muddled and puddled. In the distance amid the scatterings of jagged sheltering stones were the Orcs, riding on their Wargs. They were far away and chasing Radagast, who's vivacious hollering carried all the way over. He drove his rabbit-drawn chariot over the round hills and out of sight.

"Hurry now! Run!" Gandalf shouted, racing forward towards the nearest stones.

"Did he really do it?" Bilbo panted. "Drive them off?"

"Their din is not getting farther," Dwalin said, agitated.

We darted between the boulders, staying still and silent behind each shelter for several moments before charging off again. We followed Gandalf blindly. He stopped us at one of the towering stones.

"No, it's getting louder!" Gloin said. He was right- the Warg's howling was growing more substantial yet.

I peered out from the rocks and sucked in a breath. I could see the Orcs, screaming and charging over the hills ahead; Radagast had led them back. Crap on a stick. "He's driving them in circles! Actual damn circles!" I cried in utter disbelief. It was unreal- our savior literally brought the enemy back to us. What the actual fuck!

Gandalf said nothing. He only looked out gravely. From behind the stones I could hear Radagast whooping happily.

"He's high!" Bofur said, torn between amusement and utter frustration. "He's high off his arse!"

"Enough," Gandalf said. "We are almost there, now, run!" The Wizard broke away from the stone shelter and the Dwarves hastily followed. He kept a close eye on Radagast, and though the brown clad wizard literally was driving in enormously wide circles, Gandalf positioned our path so we were always rushing in the opposite direction. Several times we were almost caught- the Orcs turned around and Ori would have ran out into the open if Thorin hadn't pulled him back. There was a chorus of "Come on!" and "This way!" and "Move!" and "Stay together!". We were a frenetic unit running in and out of sight. It was a game of hide and seek, only the Orcs had no idea. And it wasn't really a game at all. It was terrifying and exhausting and holy crap what the everliving _hell_ Radagast!

"Where are you leading us?" Thorin asked Gandalf. The Wizard didn't answer.

Out, out in the open fields we ran, racing for the next pillar of rock. Again, Radagast the Addict brought the Orcs around and thundering near our direction. We thundered towards the pillar and practically jumped under it's awning. Ragged breathing, clustered together shoulder too shoulder.

...

A menacing growl emanated from behind us.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Elrond in Armor<strong>_

No one breathed, no one moved. The Warg had not seen us yet; it only sniffed the air, searching, tracking us. I stretched my knuckles, gripping my katana tighter.

Thorin glanced at Kili, who held his bow in his hands. I was trapped- if Kili shot the beast, it's sounds would carry to the Orcs and they would find us. If he didn't, we would surly be found anyways. My gun only bought the same dilemma- it's noise was no better than the Warg's painful howls. Direct conflict was unavoidable. My planning ahead did nothing, my warning the Dwarves early meant no difference. It didn't make any sense.

Kili took a silent step forward and I closed my eyes, awaiting the inevitable. I heard the twang of his bow, and the Warg's screams as it was pierced. I cringed and snapped my eyes open, sword at the ready. Kili released another arrow. The beast fell from the rock's pinnacle, Orc hissing on its back, and hit the ground with a reverberating thunk. It's rider Orc left it behind and charged at us. Dwalin stuck his blade into it's chest as Bifur, Fili and I leapt towards the writhing Warg. It roared a loud, throaty howl that muffled our strikes. It snapped at our heads and heels violently as we desperately hacked it to pieces until it stilled.

We all stood rigidly, listening, some looking sideways and others up beyond the rock's awning. The air was silent as both parties seemed to...wait. And then we heard it; the triumphant and collective battle cries of Warg and Orc as they advanced and thundered towards us.

"Move!" Gandalf shouted. "Run!"

And the chase was on. Bifur yanked his spear from the Warg's corpse and we all ran, following Gandalf blindly through the dry and wild grass. I remembered the horn strapped at my side and grabbed it. It was of beautiful make, marked with intricate silver engravings and looked from a fine and noble animal. It looked the way I might expect an Elvish horn to look. The Orcs knew where we were anyways- our position was already revealed. There was nothing to lose, only things to gain. So I blew it. It produced an enchanting, powerful bellow both beautiful and ferocious. It was a noticeable contrast to the Orcs' din.

"What are you doing?!" Dwalin shouted. "They will find us faster!"

"They've already found us," I huffed back. "I'm ensuring others will as well."

"Come on! Quickly!" Gandalf yelled.

The fields were not so flat as I first imagined. The ground was a sea frozen in giant ripples and waves, the hills curving up high and then just as suddenly down again. We were roaming it on feet and the Orcs on Wargs. We could never outmatch their pace. And then the arrows came. Raining down on us in a scattered drizzle, they struck the earth inches from our feet and necks and far to close for comfort. No. Tt wasn't supposed to be like this. The Orcs were keeping their distance. I could hear the Wargs trampling behind the slopping hills ahead of our Company, passing us entirely. In the films they only followed the Dwarves. But they were running ahead to cut us off, intercept and surround us.

Thundering up and over the rounded rocks ahead of us. Bellowing from all directions. Shooting at us from behind.

They were everywhere.

"There's more coming!" Kili screamed. Our party had scattered- each Dwarf finding a Warg in their path ahead and changing too different directions. Our swords were drawn but they were to far away.

"Kili!" Thorin roared. "Natasha! Shoot them!"

Hearing my name bellowed amidst the battle rattled me. This was real- real danger and I stood in the center. I reached for my gun but hesitated. _Why were they shooting at us from afar?_

Instead I grabbed my horn and blew it again, frantically.

"We're surrounded!" Fili yelled. Kili started firing his arrows, but he was our only archer. Other than my gun Kili was the only one who stood a chance of striking an Orc down.

An arrow whizzed by my ear, missing me by mere inches. I spun around- we were rabbits in a hunting game. And there was no where to run.

"Shoot them! Shoot them!" Thorin ordered.

"I can't!" I yelled back. The Orcs weren't ones to play the battle strategically. They were stupid and mindless- without a general signaling their plans they _had_ no plans. These were minions of Azog, yet he wasnt here. They should be pounding towards us, swords at the ready. They are all brawns and no brains; scum of the lowest Orc levels breeded for fighting and fighting alone. They wouldn't hang back unless there was good and substantial reason. Almost as if they were catious...Catious of a Company who shredded two Cave Trolls apart.

"Where's Gandalf?" Dori cried.

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin growled. We were slowly clustering together as the Wargs closed us in.

I blew my horn again. Kili's bow sung. Ori fired his slingshot. Another wave of arrows covered the sky, and Bofur let out a painful yell.

_No_. I whirled around to see Bofur's back meeting with the wall of a rock. An arrow jutted from his thigh. Crap. On. A. Mother. Fucking. Stick. What the hell was happening!

"Bofur!" Fili and Kili, and several others, yelled collectively. I brought my horn to my lips and sucked in a breath. But another horn's song rang through the air.

And then the Orcs started dropping. Arrows feathered white glinted in the sun and stuck from their backs. I sighed in relief but it didn't last long. Stallions galloped into view and the Orcs started to scramble. Some away from the scene to save their necks, and some directly towards us. Azog had ordered to cut down as many Orcs as they could manage. They wouldn't leave without the proper fight, now that the fight was almost over.

I drew my sword. "Someone watch him," Thorin ordered, waving towards Bofur. "Kili, shoot them down!"

"_Now_ they choose to charge us," I muttered, racing towards a fallen Warg after a twang of Kili's bow. The Orc let out a mangled, gargling roar as it raised its sword and pushed it down as I dove for him. But it was slow, and I leaned, struck his chest and swiftly drew back before his blade landed. He fell to his knees and I stuck him again. Surging with adrenalin and the thrill of true battle, without hesitation I twisted my sword and pushed it up high. It made a disgusting, wrangled noise as blood spilled from it's black lips. I felt disgusted, not regretful. Perhaps I should have been concerned with how easily I could kill it. No internal ethical dilemma, no guilt or mercy. But it was an Orc. It felt no different than shooting at a paper target- only these ones could fight back.

Fili ran forward and swung his blade down on the Warg's throat. Kili shot another arrow and I turned to meet his victim. But the Orc rider was shot, and I faced his Warg. It was the strangest feeling I ever felt, running towards the snapping beast and thinking a million different things. A rational voice yelled at me for advancing: it was stupid and dangerous. Yet another, equally rational voice warned me to avoid it's teeth: I couldn't kill it if I was torn in half. Fear made my eyes see red but thrill made me see blue. I fought like a hysterical girl but I fought like a courageous warrior. I didn't know what I was doing, but I knew exactly what to do. It was in that barbaric moment of battle when the world never seemed grayer.

The Warg pounded towards me, it's lips curled back in a malicious snarl. I was charging as well, glaring and silent and determined. Or maybe I was screaming, or crying, hysterically. I honestly couldn't tell. It made to pounce, and an instinct dragged me downward, pushed my feet forwards, and propelled me sliding towards the beast and under it's raised front legs. Withered, stalky grass brushed my cheeks and I stabbed my sword upwards, using my strength to slice it up and through and as deep into it's stomach as it would go. Then, at an angle that prohibited my taking it back, I left the katana and rolled sideways. The Warg fell over, whining and growling and twitching it's paws. I bent and grabbed the dagger in my boot in a swift and clean motion. It shook in my hands as I stabbed the Warg again, and again, and again, in it's chest, in it's back, in it's throat, until it couldn't snap at my anymore. I yanked my katana from it's stomach, and felt bile in my mouth.

Panting, I looked up to see any living Orcs running up the yellow hills and dropping one by one from silver arrows. The Elves were now at the front lines and just… slaughtering them. The disgusting maggots didn't stand a chance, and with pathetic cries they all fell in minutes.

"Gandalf," Thorin called. I looked and saw the Grey Wizard leaning on his staff, beside a gallant white horse...and...Holy crap on a stick. I stood, dumb struck. "What is the meaning of this?" The Dwarf asked.

"The meaning is simple, Master Thorin," Gandalf said gruffly. "You were in need, and Lord Elrond gave you aid."

"Who was it that blew the horn?" Elrond asked. He was...He...Like...Just...oh my gosh on stick crap thing hell. _Elrond._

I raised my hand clumsily. The noble warrior was utterly gone, replaced by a stupefied fangirl.

Elrond looked my way but Oin called out loudly. "Gandalf! Bofur is hurt!"

Oh crap, I totally forgot. I turned, the threat to my friend breaking through my fantastic wonder of the Elf king. Bofur was leaning on a rough rock, his face cringed but otherwise calm and collected. I admired that- if it were me I would have probably been hysteric.

"How bad is it?" Elrond asked, dismounting from his horse.

"What business is it of yours?" Thorin said.

"Thorin, he just saved our petty butts out there," I said. I was then torn between scolding Thorin further (in as respectful a manner as I could manage, of course) and horror that I said the word butt in Elrond's presence.

"She is right, Thorin," Gandalf said, walking towards us. The Dwarves were collected together by the shelter rock, and the Elves surrounded us in a wide, distant circle. Of them only Elrond stood with us. "Lord Elrond gave us aid when you most needed it. You should show some gratitude."

Thorin didn't answer. He stood there, silently and proud, a lost king refusing to acknowledge his lowliness; a king with no mountain, but a king nonetheless. I stared at him, as did Fili, Dwalin and Balin, Gandalf, and Elrond. The other Dwarves tended to Bofur. We were waiting in a heavy silence. Finally, "it is appreciated."

Gandalf sighed irritably, but I doubt he really expected anything more. Thorin was irritating, but...I understood why. In the heat of the moment I might be furious with his choices and words, but they are all products of suffering and exile. Thorin's life is that story of the Lost Prince. He had lost everything, and _many_ people were to blame, the Elves not excluded. While Thranduil acted strategically for his people, Thorin took his abandonment as a personal insult. The dilemma was a clash of theologies; rationality and emotion; a battle I know to be impossible to come to any real conclusion. Honestly, it was a confusing situation for me, as a reader, and as a fan of Thorin's character. I understood Thranduil's choice completely, but also Thorin's resentment. And I sort of agreed with them both. It was an incredibly gray area for me, as someone who appreciates rationality and it's practicality but also recognizes the importance of loyalty and emotional drives. I didn't really know where I stood on the matter.

A hint of a smile played on Elrond's face. He was truly magnificent. Where Gandalf radiated an aura of ancient knowledge and old, hidden power, Elrond glowed of nobility, of purity and royalty and effervescent, but controlled, _goodness._ He was an enchanting and gold-bound book, and Gandalf was an archaic dusty one. Both were beautiful in their own different ways. Elrond was clad in stunning silver armor, similar but more grand than those his men wore. Brown hair pulled back, his pointed ears peaked just bellow a glinting circlet crown. He was an Elf Lord, which was like, really epic, yet he stood on the ground with us and treated Thorin with no hostility.

I couldn't help but think back to what Kili said days earlier, how Elves stick their noses in the air and look down at everyone else as inferiors; grime on their shoes. I wondered if they only thought that because Dwarves so short. They stand two to three feet shorter than the Elves- of course they can see up their nostrils!

Thorin turned away from Elrond and Gandalf, towards his own Company. "How bad is it?" He asked Bofur.

"It is really no problem," the Dwarf said, though his voice was strained. "A flesh wound."

I frowned and headed closer.

"Can you walk?" Gandalf asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Bofur answered, readjusting his goofy hat. But his fingers were pale and his pain was obvious. Oin sat, binding Bofur's leg, Bombor hovering over the old Dwarf's shoulder. Ori, Dori, Nori, Gloin and Bifur stood close to the pair. Kili, Fili, Dwalin and Balin were closer to Thorin, in between the two groups.

I reached them and crouched low towards the ground, examining the arrow Oin had dismissively tossed aside. Hesitantly, I reached out and took it. Slowly turning it between my fingers, I scrutinizing the arrowhead.

"Then we best be on our way," Thorin said, clearly indicating he had no desire to be in the Elves' company any longer.

"I don't think we can," I called out, standing up. I held out the arrow. "It's…" I started, but then hesitated. There was a chance I was wrong. I let out a breath and walked towards Elrond.

"It's what?" Thorin asked.

I stopped when I reached the three; Thorin, Gandalf, and Elrond, who stood near but a bit away from the other Dwarves. "Poisoned. I mean, it might be."

"Poisoned?" Kili asked.

I looked at him, and became more convinced of my theory. In Desolation of Smaug, it was Kili struck by a Morgal arrow, and saved by Elven magic. Despite this entire situation being nothing like the movies _or _books, I wouldn't risk dismissing my theory.

"Bring it here," Elrond said, extending his hand.

My heart raced as I walked towards him. "A, um, Morgal Shaft, maybe. I mean I can't be sure but...you know…" I faltered, handing over the weapon. I stood so close to him. _Elrond. _Freaking _Elrond. _Just...Holy cracker jacks at a baseball game. _ELROND!_ There were just...like...no words to like...you know...say stuff...Even my mind was lagging, buffering from holy-crap overload.

"A Morgal shaft?" Thorin asked.

"A serious matter, if she is right," Gandalf said.

Elrond studied the arrow. We watched him, waiting. "I believe it is true," he said finally. "Your eye is clear, and sharp," he told me. I couldn't say anything, I just stared at him, wide eyed, stunned and completely still, like a deer in headlights. I'm not even sure I managed to blink. Like, literally, I just _stared_ at him. He was probably beyond creeped out. Like, "_why is this girl staring at me like a surprised frog?"_

"What do you propose," Thorin asked Gandalf, almost accusingly.

"He must be healed," Gandalf answered. "The sooner the better."

"He cannot heal on the way?" Thorin asked, although not out of ignorance. He was daring Gandalf to say…_it_.

"Really, I'm all right," Bofur called out. I managed to break my eyes away from Elrond and looked back. With Oin's help Bofur was standing on his shaking legs.

"No, Gandalf is right, Master Thorin," Elrond said. "You may return with us to Rivendell, get the healing you need, and food and rest. And answers, if you so desire."

"I need no answers or aid from an Elf," Thorin said, although his barrier was wavering.

"Be that is it may, the same cannot be said for your comrade," Elrond said with incredible and unfazed politeness.

Thorin looked back. Bofur was standing now, in pain but otherwise seemingly well. Which was damn annoying because the threat to his leg didn't look convincing at all. "We have a medic," Thorin said. He nodded his head gruffly, the closest to a thank-you the damn Dwarf could muster. I loved Thorin, really I did. His character wasn't perfect, and so he was a perfect character. But damn he was as stubborn and unforgiving as Kili was reckless and Bombor as fat.

"Bofur will die, Thorin!" I demanded. "Or worse. Do not let your stubbornness set that fate. I have seen the effects of a Morgal shaft. It is hideous, excruciating and of an evil I hope to never see again. It is far worse than spending a night in Rivendell with welcoming Elves."

Thorin stared at me, his face unreadable. The other Dwarves were quiet. None of them wanted to accept Elrond's invitation, but the situation was direr than in the movies, when originally they greeted the Elves with violent words. Their comrade and brother's life was at stake.

"Uncle," Fili said coaxingly.

Thorin glanced at his nephew and sighed irritable. "Very well, then. If we are still welcome, I accept your offer," he said gruffly. I sighed in relief.

Elrond nodded his head. "You best take the nearest entrance, my friend," he said to Gandalf. Then, to Thorin, "it is an easy path. Your Dwarf will be healed and your men will be fed." To this the Dwarves began mumbling their gleeful approval. "Celegnir" Elrond called out to his surrounding men. An Elf with light brown hair broke from the rank and rode his white stallion towards us.

"Yes, my Lord?" He asked. His face was clean and ageless.

"You will accompany Gandalf and Thorin's Company. Take them _thar_ _i' tella iaur_."

Celegnir bowed his head. "_Uma Heru." _He then grinned at Gandalf._ "_An honor, as always, my old friend."

Gandalf chuckled. "_haba vee' eithel_".

"Celegnir, the Dwarf needs healing. Take him to Belegyril, and have Lindur tell Maeasson of our guests. We will be needing a bigger meal tonight."

I glanced behind me. The Dwarves stood dignified, chests puffed and shoulders straight, but the mention of food was obviously exciting. Bombor, at least, had the widest grin I had ever seen.

Celegnir bowed his head again, "_uma Heru."_

"If that is all, Gandalf, I will take my leave," Elrond said. "The cave path to The Lost Bridge is not fit for horses."

"We are all settled," Gandalf answered. "And we thank you, however begrudgingly."

Gandalf chuckled and Elrond smiled. With that, Elrond mounted his horse and rode out towards the yellow hills, his armor glinting in the high-set sun. Celegnir's horse strode away as well. The Elves, excluding Celegnir, followed in the Elf King's wake. I stared as he left. I just..._I just met Elrond. _Holy crap on a stick.

"Alright!" Gandalf shouted. "On your feet now." The Dwarves grumpily stood up, Bofur leaning on Bifur for support. "And, all of you, I beg that you will be on your best behavior. And a Wizard needn't ever beg."

The Dwarves gave a collective but half-hearted chorus of promises. I smirked, picturing their food fight from An Unexpected Journey, and Lindur's horror-struck face when Kili chucked a handful of mashed potatoes at the statue beside him. Oh, not only was this experience going to be flabergasting incredible, but I believed many hysterics were in store.

With Gandalf and Celegnir in the lead, we stepped over the bloodied Orc and Warg corpses and into the great field's expanse. The hidden entrance was nearby, actually, and once reached we slid down the cave's slope one by one. Inside it was like any other burrow. You would not think that Rivendell lay just beyond the corner. When Bofur and Bifur managed down last, we set out down the cave's dark path. The air was musty and cold, but I didn't notice. If I weren't so nervous and excited, I would be worried about my heart _literally_ breaking and leaping through my chest.

Rivendell. This was it. This was _everything. _It was too wonderful to believe. _I was walking into Rivendell._

**_And Thus Ends the First Chapter of Natasha's Adventure._**

**_There is Light Ahead,_**

**_But too Many Paths to Follow._**

**_The Story Changes With Every Step._**

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><p><em>Elvish Translations:<em>

_Celegnir - Swift/Agile/Hasty (young male name)_

_thar i' tella iaur- Through the Lost Bridge_

_haba vee' eithel - Mine as well_

_Uma Heru - Yes, My Lord_

_Belegyril - Good Heart (female name)_

_Maeasson - Dough (male name)_

_Link for the names_

_Link for the speech_


	9. Open Your Eyes

_(~AN: Don't you just love procrastination? xD This is it! Rivendell (with a bit of a walk first. :P ) I'll admit this may have been a bit rushed- I just wanted to get this posted because I won't have any time on my hands for a while. If I go back an edit, add more descriptions, I'll be sure to tell you in the next chapter. ^.^_

_Some of you might notice a change of format. I decided to condense the previous 23 chapters into 8 longer ones. This means each chapter will have more content, but might take a bit longer to write. And with it being midterm week for me, don't expect any update for a while. (which is also why it took so long to get this chapter finished.) Anyways, I hope you enjoy! It's nice to live vicariously through Natasha. That way, I can see all the things she does. Hopefully you can experience them as well. ^.^ )_

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

**Open Your Eyes**

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><p><strong>~Dwarf Eaters<strong>

A startling contrast to the blazing yellow fields, the cave passage was dark and dull. The stone was a light beige, but in the absence of bright light took on a deeper, more clay-like brown. It was cramped and filled with dry dust that scattered about in puffy clouds with every step. Walking through, you would never expect Rivendell lay at the end.

All sense of time escaped me. We could have been walking for hours on end and I wouldn't notice. A part of me was still outside, standing in the fields, sword drawn and adrenaline pumping through my blood. Another part of me lay in bed; a real bed in my Brentbrook home, not a crude mat softening the grass. Though every detail was vibrant and every movement played out with that sophistication only found in real life, a small part of me expected to wake up at any moment; this is all a dream. Ten days had passed and yet it feels like I only just walked through the Brentbrook forest. I remember thinking the long traveling days boring...and missing my family...but at the moment those thoughts seemed distant and far, far away. Like every step I took through the winding cave brought the seconds to tick by slower. Time felt to be flying by, and also trapped in a crawling molasses river. Yesterday seemed a worlds away...the Shire felt only a mile behind me.

This feeling...this shortness of breath and heavy chest, this crawling heat on my neck and chill running down my spine, this abundance of enormous excitement mingling with fear I have never known before...it dominated my senses and muddled my thoughts and simply enveloped me in a binding, inescapable sense of urgency. I was oblivious to the feet that continued walking while my mind staggered. They felt like someone else's. And my hands weren't mine- my fingers and shoulders and knees were dismembered pieces of a phantom body. I felt everything and nothing at all. I smelled the dankness seeping off the cavern walls but also I didn't...Perhaps the overwhelming anticipation caged all processing ability deep into the depths of my mind. Or maybe not. I don't know. I felt detached from the present and couldn't focus on anything but the elf walking a few paces ahead.

Celegnir, his name was. A sylvan name, enchanting and wild and green. A name fit for an Elf, I thought. Mysterious, yet strong and bearing. I wanted to say the name aloud, if only to hear the letters' song and sound. But I stayed silent. Who knows why. Maybe I didn't feel worthy of it. I wasn't an Elf, nor a citizen of this world. A passerby, a visitor, intruder. Tourist, however foul the word felt. I was not ignorant of the culture around be, but still it wasn't mine. Celegnir was an Elf. An Elf. And I was a daisy among roses. I didn't belong to this world.

"Natasha, are you alright?"

The sudden speech beside me, when before it was so quiet, sliced through my lethargic thoughts and pinched my skin. I looked to my right. Fili was beside me, striding at a steady pace with Kili behind him. I stared at them, a moment of confusion and intrigue. For the first time since the Shire I felt odd talking to them; seeing them an arm width away. At Brentbrook I was limited to the scenes and angles Peter Jackson gave us. Fili and Kili were characters who's faces and scenes never changed, because a film's picture is set in stone. Only then did I realize I was seeing more of the two, and all the other characters as well, than I ever would have back at home. Fili spoke words I never heard before from his lips. Kili laughed and made jokes that were never scripted. I didn't think those were results of the world changing; alterations I had on the storyline. These...I've been given the opportunity to see in-between the lines. Screens don't limit me anymore.

"What?" I asked stupidly. I brought a hand to my forehead and found it clammy and damp.

"Are you feeling well?" Fili asked again. He sounded genuinely worried. Protective, nurturing: qualities brought on by being the older brother. He was sweet and kind.

"You look as if you have seen a dragon," Kili smiled. His humorous attitude lightened the confused mood inside me. I was walking towards Rivendell, but I was in the company of friends.

"I am just nervous," I said.

"Of what? If anyone should be worried, it is us," Kili said. "Elves eat Dwarves for breakfast sometimes, you know."

"They do not," Fili said.

"They very well could. It is a spreading rumor."

"That you started," Fili said.

"But that's besides the point!" Kili defended, smiling mischievously.

"I would not have believed it," Bilbo called out from behind us. "Hogwash."

"Bilbo! I feel betrayed." Kili craned his head, looking out towards the front of the group. "Here, I shall prove it to you."

"Kili what are you-" Fili began.

"CELEGNIR!" Kili shouted. His voice echoed through the passage, bouncing off the walls and ringing in my ears.

"Shut up!" I hissed, hitting his arm.

The fair Elf turned around. He had been talking only with Gandalf since we set out from the fields, out of earshot or otherwise ignoring the rowdy Dwarves behind him. But There was no use pretending he didn't hear. "Yes?"

"Do Elves eat Dwarves?" Kili asked, proud of his nerve and supposed wit.

I was horrified. Perhaps, under different circumstances, I would have laughed. But I was stressed out, beyond overwhelmed. My heart raced, my breathing was ragged though our path was straight and flat. I felt...heavy, like an overbearing stone weighing down on my chest. I was in to condition for games, especially of that sort.

Celegnir arched an eyebrow and squinted his eyes. His mouth tugged upward at the side, the faintest hint of a smile playing across his serious demeanor. "Eat Dwarves?" He asked, and I thought he sounded amused, although wary as well.

"I've heard you have a second pair of eyes in the back of your head," Ori said. It seemed that Kili's loud call had spread through the narrow and caught everyone's attention.

"Eyes? In the back of their heads?" Gandalf asked, his tone patronizing and strained. "The rumors you Dwarves come up with," he muttered.

"Notice how he did not answer?" Kili asked. "What say you?" He asked the Elf.

"We do not eat Dwarves for breakfast," Celegnir said calmly. "Nor are there eyes beneath our hair."

"No, Elves are 'perfect'," Kili murmured under his breath. "Snobbish as ever."

"How on earth was that Snobbish?" I asked, incredulous. "You are the one insinuating he eats Dwarves."

"I've read of Elves," Bilbo said. "Never have I seen a source of such behavior."

"Naturally!" Kili exclaimed. "They try and keep it secret. Imagine if their barbaric deeds were brought to light."

"Elves are not barbaric," I said.

"You would know?" Kili asked.

"As a matter of fact, I would," I said sternly. Kili sighed and dropped the matter. It was all fun and games, of course, but nowhere to lead into.

"Dwarf!" Celegnir shouted. We all looked up, caught off guard. "I have said nothing about our horns." And with a sly smile he turned around, to continue conversing with Gandalf.

Fili chuckled, and Kili seemed confused between amusement and shock. "I rather like him, actually," he finally said. "I mean, for an Elf."

* * *

><p><strong><em>~A Light of Sun<em>**

The cave was longer than expected. It wound around corners and the ceiling sloped downward unexpectedly. I was no less nervous but much more impatient. Away from the light the cavern was of total darkness. Spots of color played before my eyes, swirling, popping, dancing, as they tried in vain to let in any light.

I had an idea that Elves rarely used this passage. And when they do, their grace and elegance probably helped them move swiftly and without incident. I couldn't say as much for the Dwarves. Clinking with bulky armor and feet clomping in heavy steps, in such a situation they seemed very prone to accident.

"OW! Watch your step Ori!" Gloin shouted. At that point we were all used to the frequent shout of pain and irritation.

"How can I?" Ori complained. "I can't see my own two feet!"

"By the Beard of Durin if you push me one more time," Dwalin threatened.

"Well then don't move so slowly," Nori said.

"Ah!" Kili exclaimed. "Someone just wacked me in the head!"

"Sorry!" Bilbo said. "That might have been me. I think."

"Oh my god guys shut up," I groaned.

Thorin's voice rang out amid the darkness, strong and stern that I felt my skin crawl. "Careful! We have an injury in our midst. We need no other."

Thorin's warning seemed to be the push the Dwarves needed to shut the hell up and walk more quietly and cautiously. Instinctively I looked back at Bofur, though obviously I saw nothing. "How are you faring?" I asked at a wall of heavy darkness.

"I have been better," Bofur answered from somewhere behind me, his voice faint because of some distance between us. At least, I hoped it was the distance.

"You will be again, soon," I said, though the uncertainty in my stomach gripped at my breath. I admired Bofur's strength and honesty of his injury. Kili never allowed himself or the Company to realize how serious the wound was, until it was almost to late. Still, I couldn't help but think if Elrond's reaction to the morgal shaft was odd. At the time I was to awe-struck to notice anything other than the Elf Lord in all his freaking awesomeness, but...now that I look back on it...I mean, maybe it was just my concern warping the memories, but did Kingsfoil grow anywhere near Rivendell? In the movies Frodo was cured, but in the books the damage never truly faded. Because everything seemed true to the movies so far, I didn't have much reason to be worried. But then again, Bofur was never shot with a morgal shaft in the movies. No one was, in An Unexpected Journey. And there weren't any guns or splattering of Troll brains or really anything that had happened since we left their caves. Things were changing. I would be an idiot to deny it. And the Lord of the Rings takes place years later; could the things that happen now cause rifts that affect those movies and change and alter the history I know so well? We are still walking through the dank passage into Rivendell, but now the Dwarves know it, we are being led by an Elf, and Bofur is limping on Bifur's shoulder somewhere behind me. The Orcs kept their distance in the fields. That was the most unsettling of it all- if the enemies change their tactics, then who knows what could happen next. Did it make any sense that the future I know is slowly, like, erasing? Becoming irrelevant to the here and now? Would there be Kingsfoil at the ready in Rivendell?

Dwalin grunted, shattering my disturbing thoughts. "Damn you Ori! What did I just say!?"

"Ok, that's it!" I yelled. Everyone stop for a second. I don't want to taste cave dust in my mouth." Muttering, at least the Dwarves behind me stopped walking. I swung my backpack from my shoulders and ripped the zipper open.

"Ah- Kili get your hand off my face," Fili grunted.

"My bad, I thought you were the wall," Kili said.

"Just, hold on," I said, gritting my teeth and fishing through the loaded bag. A part of me warned against it, especially with Celegnir here, but I couldn't take it any longer. I was going to kill these Dwarves, if they don't do it first. My fingers found something long and cold at the bottom of the bag. Tugging it through layers of folding clothing and bundles of other necessities, I finally managed to bring out my flashlight. I felt around for it's button, but waited to click it. "Ok, everyone, close your eyes," I shouted, hoping my warning reached Gandalf and Celegnir at the head of the Company. The echoing of my voice ringing through the hall answered my concern.

"What are you planning on-" Dwalin began, but I interrupted.

"Just close your damn eyes! Ok, I'm turning on my light."

"Your light?" Fili asked, just as I turned the flashlight on.

"Ah! Hell!" Gloin shouted.

The cave exploded with white light. My eyes were closed tightly but the transition was still a shock. They stung and watered.

"I can't see!" Gloin groaned.

"I told you to close your eyes," I said, opening my eyes to slits and blinking profusely from the light. It was shining off the walls and reaching far into the darkness, it's beam a wide beacon, glowing with a luminous aura much stronger than I remembered. I never used a flashlight in pitch darkness before. The effect was piercing and fierce.

"Can we open them now?" Kili asked.

"Oh, yea, go ahead," I answered. "They'll sting a bit though."

"What is this magic?" Celegnir's fair voice said from behind me. I turned and blanched, staring at the Elf who stood only a few paces way. My mind wavered. It wasn't attraction, or anything of the sort, that I felt upon seeing his face, though he possessed that timeless beauty infamously attributed to the Elves of Middle Earth. No, he seemed too princely for that sort of thing. He was...He was an Elf...A god freaking Elf with the pointed ears and vibrant skin and just radiating with pure, unadulterated...Elfness. Holy crap I was in Middle Earth.

"Uh...What?" I asked stupidly, trying to retain at least a loose grip on my thoughts. Being in the presence of the Dwarves, and Gandalf, and feeling the adrenaline of battle and holding Not-Yet-Sting in my hands...it was magical. But seeing an Elf, in person, was beyond my experiences in Middle Earth thus far.

He looked down at the flashlight in my hands with a curious expression; not hostile, but not welcoming either. Wary, was an accurate description of his wrinkled forehead and thin-lined lips. Wary of the seemingly-magical artifact in my hands. A rare occurrence for morals and Elves alike. "The light. Is it from a star?"

It took a moment to register his words. My stupefied expression wasn't because of Celegnir, but more so the race he belonged to .I was just so incredulous to talk, to be in the presence of, a mystical Elvish soul. I was giving him the same wide-eyed-caught-in-headlights-crazy-frog-eyes I gave Elrond only moments earlier.

Celegnir gave me an odd expression and looked to Gandalf. "Is she...alright?"

"You're an Elf!" I blurted, before I could stop myself.

Fili grunted, and Kili said, "and Ori smells like Cave Trolls."

"Hey! What do I have to do with anything?" Ori asked.

"Simply joining in on the observations," Kili smiled mischievously.

"Natasha has a bag of many tricks," Gandalf explained dryly. "You will have better luck with your question in a little while longer, when she isn't so befuddled."

"Her mind is a delicate thing," Kili said sympathetically.

I had enough concentration to hear his comment. I glowered and bopped the top of his head. "And your head is to soft for your shoulders."

Some of the Dwarves chuckled. Hitting Kili gave me the strength to answer the Elf with little stuttering. 'No, I can, um, explain it." I dropped my gaze to my hands. "It is called a flashlight. It shines with power from the sun." The cool thing was, that wasn't even a lie. Solar power. Hehe.

"A Flashlight...It is very useful," Celegrin said. I nodded dumbly.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "If you don't mind Celegrin, I have a few more questions to ask."

The Elf turned to the wizard and nodded, amused. "If ever a moment arrives when you do not, I would expect the end of our days." The two of them moved along to the front of the line again, Celegrin careful to avoid brushing the shoulders of any of the Dwarves. Perhaps he was a bit snobby.

Fili looked at me strangely. "What was that?"

I thought a moment. "I've always wanted to see an Elf. Rivendell is...a mesmerizing place unsuitable for any words I can string together."

"You have been there?" Bilbo asked.

"Only in dreams," I said whimsically.

"It is only a home of Elves," Kili said. "I see nothing so special about it."

I smirked. "You might try and deny it, but I know as well as you that you have a special admiration of beauty. You notice when the sky is a different color, when the moon is red or when the sun sprinkles along the leaves and they sway in a golden wind. I've seen you stare up at the stars and wonder why they are so cold, and distant." Oh, I knew those things all right. Hehe. But not in the way they give me credit for. No psychic voodoo here. "I will tell you though, the light in Rivendell might be the warmest you will ever see."

"Nothing will be as bright as Erebor's first fires rising again," Fili said.

"There is a great difference between the light of home and the light of heaven. Both shine vibrantly, but their glow cannot be compared," I said.

And then it happened. A softer, kinder glow than the blue of my flashlight seeped across the cavern walls ahead. We were nearing the exit; Rivendell was literally but a few paces away. I gasped and turned off my flashlight, wanting to see only the light I have been dying for for so many years. "Tell me when we get there," I whispered, clenching my eyes tight and leaning on the wall for guidance. "I will sit in darkness until my eyes can open to light. I won't see anything more until Rivendell stands before me."

* * *

><p><strong><em>~A New World<em>**

"Natasha, open your eyes," Fili said.

I heard Bilbo gasp behind me. I felt my heart pound in my throat and my head numb in anticipation. I was dizzy- perhaps closing my eyes had been a mistake. I had trapped myself into opening my eyes after sitting in darkness for so long. Instead of easing in with a gradual transition, I had no choice but to rush into the blinding light head on. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. I couldn't breath- holy ever-living crap on a god-forsaken stick. Rivendell. Rivdendell, RIVENDELL RIVENDELL RIVENDELL! I couldn't; I had to. I sucked in air but felt no ease of the tension in my lungs. Why hadn't my legs given in yet, why haven't I fainted from this pulsing, piercing anxiety that gripped my neck and dominated my entire being. I waved out my hand until I found a sturdy shoulder to hold myself steady.

Even Kili seamed speechless.

"Open them," Fili whispered, his voice soft with awe. "You were right. The light is warm."

Ok. I took a steady breath, and braces myself for...god knows what. I'm going to do it. I'm...I'm going to see Rivendell.

I opened my eyes.

Only one intelligible thought spoke amid my mind.

_There are some things gold that glitter still._

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Innocent Eyes<strong>_

The Last Homely House was hugged in a stunning silence. An archaic white elysium, built of mossy stones that spider-webbed across the cliffs and crying mountains, showering in the fades of misty light and glimmering water. Rivendell bathed in the rays of a dancing sun; glowing, almost breathing, shining onto the palaces; the houses; the ancient walls. The kingdom of humble stone jumped and curved, pointed and twisted, into arches, into columns, into shadowing balconies and mystic stairwells. It's buildings were open and welcoming, it's structure looking so delicate but proud. It seemed frabile enough to fly away like curtains in a summer wind, but strong enough to dominate the bodies of any threat or storm. There were shadows resting atop windowsills and shingled roofs like basking cats, in shapes both small and sharp, cut from mountains or whisping couds or maroon awning. These shadows were dark, but in no way gloomy or mad.

Sometimes the buildings broke, the stairwells split and gapped, making room for waterfalls running silver. No structure intruded the land, no stone interrupted. The homes shared their place with spilling waters and swaying trees. None of it was not of nature's make but nonetheless seemed to be invited by the sylvan green smatterings and misting streams and smiling mountains with open arms. Made by hands but welcomed by nature. Hidden from the world but siting within it. A seed no different from any tree, an oakling amid bowing cliffs but cast over by taller mountains still. It was beautiful. It was warm and bright and kind. It was Rivendell. It Belonged.

But it still lay far away, standing tall and grand by the end of a long bridge before us. We stood on gray stone high above a roaming stream and speckling rocks and winding trees so small and distant. But the Company did not stand still. They soaked in the view but were not struck by it. I could not say the same for myself, as I took one step but felt my feet fail beneath me. Awed, breathless, I sunk to the cold cobblestones and felt so utterly small, so utterly dismal and insignificant in a world that could hold such beauty. I brought my hands to my trembling lips and forced myself to breath, however unnecessary it seemed. And then I cried. Cried with such an intensity of wonder and amazement and complete bewilderment that had dammed up inside me from my very first step into this world. My tears watered my eyes and I cried even harder, as the magnificence of Rivendell blurred before me. I hadn't realized. I...I didn't know I could feel this much. I didn't understand how I was so glued to my screens back home, didn't understand why I was not born in this world, didn't understand why I was allowed to walk within it. I didn't understand anything at all. I never knew how caged I had become.

For one blissful moment, everything was perfect. I basked in the experience of knowing nothing at all.

**She must cross The Lost Bridge**

**Before reaching Rivendell**

**So too must she travel the long road ahead,**

**Only this one will not so easily be walked**


	10. The Last Homely House

_(~AN: So, there's been some excitement of meeting Thranduil later on, and I've realized I need to give you all a choice. There are two ways I can take this story, and honestly I'm fine with both so I would love your opinion. ^.^_

_ Would you guys rather a story that sticks to the general storyline of the movies, or a story that veers away almost completely but in many senses is much more realistic? So basically, the characters we all know and love :P or a more realistic plot-line. Please, PM or review your opinions. My main goal is giving you guys what you want. ^.^_

_~~P.S: This chapter is a bit of a filler and not too long b/c what happens next totally depends on the direction the story is heading. xD Also I felt that the last chapter didn't have enough description of Rivendell. )_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

**The Last Homely House**

* * *

><p><strong>~Beauty Unknown<strong>

It was like gazing at the stars and recognizing how small you really were. To us the world seems big, limitless and full with too many wonders to see in one lifetime. But it could just as easily be a speck of dust. _We_ could be dust, to someone, somewhere. Sometimes I look at the stars and see, not a freckled sky, but a black curtain over something white and bright. The stars we see are apart of this world beyond, not specks but glimpses through holes in the sky. It's a bit unnecessarily poetic, I guess. But it's impossible not to be, when you're looking up at the sky. Some people have the fortune to see this type wonder wherever they look. They see the leaves and think of fingers, the mountains as the curves and shapes of the earth's body, rain as it's tears and wind as it's breath, sunrise as it's awakening. Life can be tragic and cruel, but there is always a place in the world that remains beautiful.

This is that place.

My mouth trembled and my shoulders shook as I looked on and out, crying silently but viciously. I lost all sense of time, and any shame I might have felt by my reaction was long, long gone. I might have been worried of the Dwarves. What would they think, seeing me kneel in hysteric admiration, at the door to an Elven kingdom? Would they be resentful? Untrusting? Wary that I could show such affection to a place somewhat enemy to them? Or, perhaps, would they understand, because deep down they feel _it_ to, and only are better at hiding it? I might have been more careful, but any thought of caution or preservation or even dignity flew away the moment I had opened my eyes.

_I was there._ I thought of a seven-year-old transfixed by a moving image, sitting cross-legged on the living room rug and staring into the TV screen like there was nothing else in the world. Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn and the Hobbits; I rode the horses with them, and trekked the bountiful green hills and fought the withering orcs by their side. I was seven and I dreamed of adventure. And when I finished The Lord of the Rings for the first time, I felt lost. Imagine that, a seven year old girl having an existential crisis. I looked at the world I lived in and felt trapped, like Eowen, only escaping the cage was _impossible_. Because there were no dragons in Brentbrook, or Elves or glowing blue symbols sketching into doors. There were cars, and medicines and many dreams that could come true, some easily and others with effort and substantial luck. But every world had it's limits. Though farfetched a little kid's dream to one day be president _is _possible. My dream, however, was not. I had to settle for the next best thing; living vivaciously through characters of any form. Reading, writing, waching- that was the closest I could ever be to the real thing.

If only that poor seven-year-old could see me now. I was living the dream that never should have been possible. There were challenges involved, horrors to come, but at that moment they all escaped me. I couldn't have grasped any of those cautions if I wanted. Because there, kneeling on the gray-stone bridge and out unto Rivendell, the concept of darkness seemed impossible. It was silly to think anything bad could be in a world that was so beautiful.

A voice cleared somewhere around me. I almost noticed it, but it was the gentle hand on my shoulder that tethered my mind back to the ground. I looked up. Bilbo was there, his eyes red and glazed but not watering like mine. There was also Gandalf, but the rest of the bridge was empty. The Dwarves were gone, Kili and Fili included. How...how long had I been sitting there?

"It's time to keep walking," Gandalf said.

I looked at him, confused. "Where is everyone?"

"Why, they have went inside!" Gandalf said, his voice amused and kind. I realized how long it had been since he used that voice with me. From the beginning Gandalf knew I kept things from him, but over the course of our journey, especially after Radigast...who's appearance felt years away...(it was shocking to realize that it was only that morning)...those things I kept hidden were slowly coming to light. "_What are you not telling me."_ Gandalf was terrifying then, furious and worried and demanding. How different his voice was now. "You have been sitting there for quite a long while."

"What? How long?" I asked, flabbergasted (damn I love that word) that I hadn't noticed a thing.

"Long enough," Gandalf said. "But it's time to go inside now."

I blanched and looked towards...Rivendell. "But- but I'm not ready!" I insisted. I didn't think I could take it- the excitment, being tossed from the presence of a drugged wizard to the center of a furious orc battle to the front steps of The Last Homely House. It was too much. I was only mortal. Woah- human. Why...When did I start thinking of myself with that term? _Mortal._ The world was moving by me so fast I wasn't able to notice when I had made that change.

"That may be…" Gandalf breathed. "But you have never been more prepared."

I looked up and shared his wry smile. I said that, when I was still back in Brentbrook...It had only been ten days ago and I felt so utterly disconnected from that version of myself. Could I really have changed so much? Woah. What would happen when I went home a different person? Surely my parents would be suspicious. No one goes to sleep and wakes up an entirely new self. Ah crap. I didn't think about that.

I understood my time at the bridge was up. I looked out towards the sky, golden and mystical; a sky to be envied. "It's beautiful," I whispered.

"Indeed it is," Gandalf said, gazing at the horizon, his face cast in a yellow shadow. "And it will never not be."

I took a deep breath and stood to my feet. It took a surprising amount of effort- like my body wanted to stay there forever. Bilbo still stood at my side, quiet and watching the masterpiece before us. I wasn't sure if he had stayed there the whole time, whether for me or for the view as well. I didn't particularly care- at least one other in the company understood, and shared, my total awe. Together, the three of us staring walked towards Rivendell.

* * *

><p><strong>~An Unexpected Detail<strong>

"I thought I should warn you Natasha," Gandalf said with careful words, "that Elrond will want a word with you during our stay.

"Elrond?" I gulped. I mean, I couldn't say I was so surprised. I was preparing for it for a long while now. I would have been surprised if he _didn't _want to. No doubt Gandalf spoke of me when he snuck here several days ago. There were many things some might think peculiar about me. My being a human but traveling with Dwarves, my strange backpack and the tricks it held, the odd way I talked when my guard was down and, of course, the fact that I knew many things a teenage mortal- damn, _human,_ girl shouldn't know. A Psychic. Please. I wondered if the facade would fool the Elves. Then again, there should be no other way for them to explain it. They had to be more keen on believing I had magical seer abilities than even guessing I might be an Other-worlder. That was just ridicules. _I _was still having difficulties accepting that.

"He wanted to come with me, when Kili and Fili told us you and Bilbo were still on the bridge. But I…" Gandalf thought for the appropriate words, "I thought that would be too much excitement, for one day."

I sighed in relief. Just imagining Elrond being there when I woke from my weird trance thingy was mortifying. No doubt I would have just dropped dead. Dear lord that would have been embarrassing. I nodded. "You have my thanks."

"You two are welcome to join the Elves and Dwarves at Lord Elrond's table for supper. If not, someone can show you your rooms. Thorin wasn't keen on accepting any housing, however...It seems our stay might be a bit longer than intended."

Bilbo and I frowned at Gandalf together. "What do you mean?" The Hobbit asked.

Gandalf cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on his long brown staff. It was hard to focus on him, and not the scene around us. The bridge, this Lonely bridge extending over nothing and bare and unadorned, was perhaps the most beautiful place I had ever been. Rivendell was magnificent and royal, but the view, the _feeling _of this bridge, was godly. We stood under an expanse of sky and clouds glowing pink and gold in the setting sun. No roof, no trees or awning or cave mouth covering our heads or protecting our sides. There was nothing to hold, nothing touch, other than the bridge and whoever in your company. We were high from the ground and far from the streaming mountain-falls and elysium structures. There was only color. Color in the sky and color in the stones. All around us were blues and emeralds and pinks and reds and golds from a sunset erupting in magic. The bridge was primitive, raw and simple and pure. There was nothing to distract from the devastatingly spectacular world surrounding us.

"Well," Gandalf said, bringing my thoughts back to reality and our conversation. "Bofur must heal, of course."

"Why do you sound strained?" Bilbo said. I was thinking the same thing.

"It is a serious injury requiring serious care."

"Is there no Kingsfoil?" I asked, panicked.

Gandalf looked at me, surprised momentarily, then sighed. By then he must have decided it no use to ask about my knowledge. "There is...However the Elves have some doubts on it's reliability."

"What does that mean?" Bilbo asked.

"It means, Master Bilbo, that this is not a breed of Kingsfoil typically used for morgal poison. It is not the proper climate, and so the Elves are experimenting on creating a version that can grow in these lands. We have yet to see if they have been successful."

I felt a twinge of panic. Hell. What did this mean? That was _not _in the movies. Would Bofur heal? What would this change, what else would go wrong? None of it...None of it was supposed to happen. Dammit, I'm the cause of it. The Orcs kept their distance from us and relied on ranged archery instead of direct combat. I had been trying to figure out what caused this change in tactic. The only reasonable explanation was that something happened that made the Orcs cautious. They kept their distance until they could figure what they were up against. A company that killed two Cave Trolls in the dead of night was appropriate reason to be wary. This was all my fault. In the head of the moment I used my gun, when the day would have come just as soon, and I changed everything. And now Bofur might be in serious trouble. Hell freaking crap on a stick.

"How long until we know?" I asked.

"A day," Gandalf said. "Maybe two."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. That wasn't so bad. I had no idea how long our stay at Rivendell would last. It did make sense that Thorin would reveal his map tonight, however I've learned not to be so confident on time. If the Kingsfoil worked, Bofur would be up and walking soon.

"Do not celebrate yet," Gandalf warned.

* * *

><p><strong>~Lindir <strong>

I...Just..._Damn. _It was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

The Lost Bridge brought us straight over the stunning open drop to a circular stone platform; an entrance to Rivendell. My heart sank as I realized I might never walk the bridge again. It's path was lonely, surrounded by nothing but streams and shaded greens misted over far bellow, grey mountain on one far end and Rivendell on the other, and an astonishing expanse of sky high above the head. I rather thought The _Lonely_ Bridge was a more suiting name, for when you walked it there was nothing but you and the heavens and depths of the Earth. The sun was long into it's setting, the clouds and skies painted in rich gold and heavy pinks. It was perhaps the most vibrant sky I had ever seen, and it pained me to think I might never see one of it's like again, at least from that view.

In contrast to the sunset, Rivendell was an archaic kingdom of faint colors. The stones and arches were cast in the sky's brilliant light. The walls glowed, radiated with a very pale amber aura, while the sky itself was a halcyon and blazing masterpiece. The gray bridge met with the grounds of Rivendell, and I felt a spike of excitement as I took my first step into The Last Homely House. The heels of my shoes tapped against the smooth stone surface of the platform, a tower mounted on a pillar of earth whose drop marked it's circular shape.

At the head, on either side of me, were two tall stone statues, soldiers, their spears or swords stuck in the ground before him. They looked onwards, past the Lost Bridge and at the mountains that guarded the side of Rivendell. I walked further, and together with Bilbo felt the need to stop and survey the view. Ahead, a silver staircase leading to ancient gothic buildings, some with high domes, others whose roofs pointed at the sky; all were adorned with arches or clerestory windows. No building was alike, it seemed, some silver, others marble and still more a bright brown. As the sun was low in the sky every tree and stone cast long shadows and were illuminated in golden light. Further beyond, Rivendell ended by a mountain's side, dripping a slow waterfall that matched the dozens of others around us. The outlook towards the open sky and expanse of silvan canyon filled me with awe and something stronger I couldn't name. I felt so overwhelmed my eyes began tearing again.

Two Elves, one clad in grand wine-purple robes and the other in soft gray, waited by the silver and straight staircase. I recognized the one in purple- Lindir, slender and soft. His dark brown hair shone in the golden sun, pulled back by a celtic silver circlet in the shape of weaving branches; it sunk into a point just above his eyebrows and designated him as a High Attendant to Lord Elrond. A silver brooch in an odd design not unlike a flower clasped the neckline of his rope just above the collar bone. The second Elf I didn't recognize. He too wore a circlet, but thinner and less defined as Lindir's. His hair was a fair brown, his face was of soft features, hardly eye-catching but elegant nonetheless. At the top two guards in glinting armor watched on silently, as still as the statues behind us. As we neared the stairs Lindir moved forwards, smiling kindly.

"Lindir, allow me to properly introduce Natasha Blinc of Brentbrook," Gandalf said, waving for me to come forward. Timidly I obliged, trying not to appear so...idolizing.

"It is a pleasure," Linder said, bowing his head. "You are just in time for the feast. However, if you prefer, I can show you to your room first. It appears your Company will be staying longer than expected."

I stared at him, speechless. You would think I would be used to talking with Elves by now...After the awkward "conversations" with Celegnir and Elrond. But no, because I'm a damn moron. Hehe. It's kind of funny actually, but, like, in a really pathetic way.

"Uh what?" I asked.

"Your room? Unless you prefer the courtyard, like your...friends," Lindir said.

"I'm kind of, um, I don't…want to waste your time," I said, super smoothly, the epitome of sophistication. Ah hell in a bucket. My _lord_ I was such an awkward chicken butt.

"Time is not of the essence," Lindir said, giving a wry smile.

Gandalf chuckled. "Are the Dwarves giving you a hard time _melon?_"

Lindir checked behind his shoulder, and then, back to Gandalf, "they are very...loud."

"I imagine you don't get that a lot around here," Bilbo said, so annoyingly casual, like he wanders into Elven land every other day.

Lindir smiled again. "We do have our fair share of little nuisances." It was odd, because though he had that ethereal grace so devastatingly common with Elves, he seemed...A bit sarcastic? Is that a thing? Sarcastic Elves? Lindir? What was he even talking about?

Gandalf huffed again, amused. "Ah, yes, how old is he now?"

"Ten," Lindir answered.

"My, it _has_ been a while," Gandalf said. "I do say I'm feeling a bit old."

I stared at the Wizard, confused. Ten? What? An Elf? Did...did ten-year-old Elves even exist? That was so weird to think about. Woah.

"My friend you have not aged a heartbeat. Time has been kind to you."

"So says the Elf," Gandalf laughed.

Lindir smiled. "But what will it be?" He asked me, turning from Gandalf.

"I do not know I am awful at at making life-decisions," I said in a rush.

"It has been some time since you have had a bed," Gandalf said.

"A room then?" Lindir asked.

I nodded, unsure, still a bit befuddled by everything. "Yea, um, yes."

"Very well," Lindir said, "although as the sun is setting ever lower I feel it best too bring you to our table first. Hopefully there is still food left, though with your Company I cannot be sure." He turned around and waved the Elf in gray forward. From afar I noticed nothing unusual about him, but up close I saw he had the brightest, richest green eyes I ever saw. It was startling, as his eyes were like jewels and Elven eyes were typically known to be gray. "Calemirdor can take your belongings then, if you do not mind, as he has matters to attend to in that direction already."

I gripped the straps of my backpack tightly. Over the days I had grown so used to it's weight, become so proective of it's contents, that parting with it felt uncomfortable. Besides, I felt it beyond weird to give my things to an Elf...This was Rivendell, not a hotel or something. I don't know but something felt weird about it. So I shook my head and smiled politely at the green-eyed Elf, Calem-something-or-other. "If it's all the same I rather keep it with me."

The gray-clad Elf nodded. "Very well." He then turned to Lindir. "Lye tela?"

Lindir nodded his head. "Tanya farnuva."

The green-eyed Elf turned and headed up the staircase. Then, Lindir smiled, and waved his hands in the same direction. "Follow me, then, Tula, vasa ar' yulna en i'mereth!"

* * *

><p>(<em>~AN: So in case you didn't read the AN above, which is more explanatory , I really want your input on this guys xD I want you to enjoy this, so, what will it be: Thranduil and all upcoming characters, or what's realistic for the story-line? <em>

_You would meet everyone with both options, but with the latter it would be a long time. ^.^ Dear readers! Let me know in whatever way you see fit ^.^ )_

* * *

><p>Translations:<p>

Calemirdor ~ Green jewel

Lye tela ~ Am I finished

Tanya farnuva ~ That will suffice

Tula, vasa ar' yulna en i'mereth ~ Come, eat, and drink of the feast


	11. Bofur's Condition

_(~AN: So sorry for the delay guys! I waited a bit longer in hopes for more replies to my question in chapter ten. It's not too late to give me your opinions! I would really appreciate it- so far more people want me to take the more rational approach to the story line, which means we won't be seeing some of our favorite characters until much, much later. _

_You'll notice some new Oc's also! Celegnir, Calemirhan, and Calemirdor's bio's are up on my profile. Belegyril's will come soon. ^.^_

_ My weekly posting sced. might have to be compromised- just so much school work to deal with. I'm sure you all relate. xD_

_Anyways, enjoy! ^.^ )_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

**Bofur's Condition**

* * *

><p><strong>~A Frettful Feast<strong>

Something about the entirety of that Elven meal struck me as odd. At no point did the Dwarves break into merry and rambunctious song and begin throwing food. In fact the mood throughout the long tables, apart from Lord Elrond's, where sat Thorin and Gandalf, was dour. Half-hearted, even. It took a while until I figured it out. There was no Bofur to stand on high, kick his legs in the air and play a cheery tune on his flute. Other than him, and perhaps Kili or Fili, none of the other Dwarves had the personality to _start_ such a delightful scene. Partake in it, of course, but imagining Ori or Gloin or Dwalin standing on the table and starting a food fight just didn't cut it. Kili still flirted with the Elves (accidentally winking at a few males in the bunch), Ori still complained about the vegetables, but without Bofur, there was an obvious lull in the Company.

"I swear they all look the same," Kili mumbled under his breath, turning red after having discovered the Elf maiden he had been eyeing wasn't a maiden at all.

"There's nothing wrong with swinging that way, lad," Dwalin said, smiling mischievously.

"Put a beard in it," Kili bit back.

I laughed, and Fili and Bilbo chuckled. There _was _laughter, but as someone who had seen the scene before, it felt wrong without the food-fight. It just wasn't the same without seeing Lindir's exasperated face as a scoop of mashed potatoes missed him by inches. And besides for that, the looming uncertainty of Bofur's condition cast a dour and gray cloud over our heads. We were all on edge.

I couldn't help but feel responsible. It was never supposed to happen. Not in the movies nor in the books did Bofur suffer such an injury. And yet, in this story, with me, he did. In this story, I am not a god but a powerful intruder, disturbing Tolkien's text. I'm an added character, like Tauriel, but how will my presence compare to hers? In Peter Jackson's movies Kili and Fili still died, only differently. Kili was struck by a morgal shaft, which wasn't derived from the book, so perhaps this scenario was similar. Like I mentioned before perhaps I can only unsettle the dust and stones on the path, but not veer away from it completely. The adventure would be subject to changes, but the overall conclusion won't be compromised.

But what if this wasn't the case. Hypothetically, couldn't I alter this timeline completely? I could tell Elrond of the ring, or even steal it and set off to destroy it on my own. Not that I had any plans on doing such- gosh, that was a recipe only for disaster. Taking such a risk was beyond stupid for so so so many reasons. But in the frilly land of the theoretical, couldn't I intentionally change _everything?_ This wasn't about following the films or book anymore. This was about following the adventure- only the in-world information was reliably relevant to me now. There were to many changes to use The Hobbit as a guide anymore. I wasn't living the book or movies anymore, I was living the world. It's become clear the unexpected and unscripted is now fully possible.

So then, what _would _the repercussions be of telling Gandalf everything? I mean, if things were already changing, then perhaps _not_ exposing Sauron's return, and the ring in Goblin Town, could lead to Middle Earth's destruction. I no longer had a clue what to expect. It was a concerning thought, wondering if the entire story was being unwritten. If I wasn't adding footprints but rather a wind that was blowing the sand in all directions. It was terrifying. A weight on my chest that I wanted nothing more than to ignore, but know doing just that could be detrimental. I was way too unreliable to hold such a responsibility. Dammit, why did this all have to happen? Why couldn't I just enjoy Middle Earth and Thorin's quest without having to be plagued by such potential repercussions? I mean, it's amazing that I'm here, and it feels selfish to be complaining, but _seriously!_

Suddenly, all was quiet. The sudden change in noise caught my attention, and I looked up. The harp players were halted, as was all table chatter. Calemdir-something, the green-eyed Elf from before, only changed from green to gray robes, was standing beside and a bit to Elrond's right.

"I have received word that your Dwarf is recovering well," Elrond spoke. "Enough so for visitors."

Bombor immediately stood. "When?" He asked anxiously.

"Settle down," Elrond said, smiling kindly, "and have patience. You will see your brother soon. _Calemirhan_ can take any who are finished," Elrond said, gesturing to the green-eyed Elf. Almost at once every Dwarf at my table rose, scraping their chairs along the stone-ground. I stood as well, although not as suddenly. The Dwarves were probably antsy to leave this meal of vegtables behind anyways. Elrond looked at us all in amusement. "Very well. Calemirhan," he said, turning to the other Elf. Calemirhan stepped forward, bowed his head, and joined us. Thorin and Gandalf remained in their seats.

"I wish your Dwarf well," Elrond said, looking at Bombor. He probably noticed the blood-brother bond between Bombor and Bofur.

"You have my thanks," Bombor replied. Elrond seemed to have nothing more to say, though he didn't look away from us.

"Balin!" Thorin called, standing from his seat and heading towards us. The old Dwarf turned. "Do not stay long, for I will be needing your company before the morning." Thorin tugged on the collar of his fur coat, hinting at the map that lay underneath. "Will you meet us here, in no more than an hour and it's half?"

Balin nodded. "Aye."

"Very well," Thorin said. He scanned over our group, then at the green-eyed elf. "Stay out of trouble," he looked at Kili and Fili, "and give Bofur my blessings."

"If you are all ready then." Calemirhan said, gesturing for us to follow him away from the courtyard.

The Dwarves started following him, and I as well, only it seemed a bit awkward to just leave Elrond's tables like that. I turned around. Elrond was still watching us, and I caught his gaze. Faltering, I bowed over slightly and self-consciously. "Thank you for your grace and food," I said, cringing at how utterly stupid that sounded. I saw Elrond smile and nod, and I ran away as fast as I could, back to the group, because gosh that was sort of mortifying.

* * *

><p><strong>~Our Names<strong>

He took us out to the winding path roads and through the night. The sky had grown a dark and brilliant blue, alight with stars and moon who cast silver shadows along the trees and stones. It was frightening though, to look off at the distance and see only black. There were no streetlights to illuminate the grounds. We could only rely on the lamps in the sky.

"Calem- um, excuse me, what is your name again?" Bilbo asked. The group of Dwarves were broken in scattered conversation amongst themselves. The green-eyed Elf was alone in front, ignored except for being followed. Though he didn't seem to mind or notice. As there was such an obvious gap between him and our Company Bilbo and I seemed subconsciously inclined to fill it.

The Elf looked at him. "Calemirhan," he said.

Bilbo nodded. "Calemirhan. I will try to remember. What does it mean? I suppose it _has_ a meaning, yes?"

"You would be cheated to ever come by an Elf with no such name," Calemirhan said. He smiled. "It means Green Jewel."

"For your eyes?" I noted.

"Indeed."

"Do Elves always do that? Name their young after appearance?" Bilbo asked.

"Only if one's is particularly noteworthy. Elven names are as various as any others."

"Wait. Calemirhan?" I frowned. "I could have sworn...Didn't your name have a 'D'?"

The Elf smiled. "You must have met my brother, Calemirdor."

"Brother? There are _two_ of you?" I asked, dubious, as this guy looked exactly like the Elf from before.

"Brothers of the same moon and year," Calemirhan said. Damn, he could have just said 'twins'. _Brothers of the same moon and year._ Gosh. How utterly pretentious.

"And his name? Is it of similar meaning?" Bilbo asked.

"It is for Green Jewel as well."

I squinted my eyes. "So you both share the name? Does that bother you?"

"He is my brother. We share in blood, birth, and eyes already. It is not so uncommon for family to share in name as well. Have you not come by this?"

I paused. Bifur, Bofur, Bombor; Oin and Gloin; Kili and Fili; Balin and Dwalin; Ori Dori Nori; Boromir and Faromir, Eowin and Eomer...I always thought the alliteration was just to sound cute. I never gave it much thought before. "No...I have. But with no siblings with my name, I always found it curious. It doesn't steal from your identity?"

"My brother _is _my identity. There is no other in this world who is as alike me as he, in both body and soul."

I thought of Kili and Fili, who walked some ways behind us. The two were nothing alike personality wise, except that they loved each other unconditionally. Siblings share a bond in this world I've rarely seen in "Brentbrook". Family is considered sacred and precious in Middle Earth. I doubt I feel the same way about my household as Kili and Fili do theirs. I mean, I love my parents, but don't consider the surname Blinc an integral part of my identity. When introducing myself back at home I don't give myself as "Natasha, daughter of Maxwell". My name was my own- my dad and hometown don't define me. It's interesting, how names play such a role for your person.

"But havn't you mentioned siblings before Natasha?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes, I have- I just meant our names are alone. A younger sister and brother; Valerie and Jason." I tried to imagine if my relationship with them would be any different if they were Natalie and Nathan or something, but it was hard to picture them under any name other than their own. _Really_ hard to picture. It was just so elemental to their identify. "I would not fool myself in saying my relationship with them is the same to you and your brother Calemirdor, or to the brothers in my company, but I love them all the same."

"What a shame it would be, if you did not," Calemirhan said. "I have heard tales of hatred and betrayal between brothers and sisters, and few others seem so tragic."

"Betrayals feel only powerful when they break from a bond of love or loyalty," I said. "Stories of blood between brothers or stabbings of friends are far more crushing than, say, a spy in the king's guard or an acquaintance. That is why they are so popular in fiction, and so damaging in reality. It isn't hard to accept the treachery of a subject or far neighbor, but of your own family…"

"Such a thing is of the vilest poison," Calemirhan said.

"This conversation escalated rather highly, don't you think?" Bilbo asked.

I looked at him, the corner of my lip lifting into a half-smile. "Indeed it did," I said. We went from names and family-bonds, something so white, to treachery, which is so black, in a heartbeat.

"It is not an easy time for you," Calemirhan said. "Until you see your Dwarf healing well, the world will feel dark on your skin."

"Strange, but poetic," I said.

"Are we almost there?" Bilbo asked. Calemirhan had led us across a pathway covered with a dark wooden awning and just onto a short stone bridge. From what I'd seen, Rivendell was built with many breaks and crossings, interrupting nature as little as possible. The bridge rose over a petty blue stream that easily could have been dammed or redirected. The moon was fair and mirrored in the water brightly, rippling and waving with the soft wind. The stream slipped down into a steep waterfall a few arms away, and the bridge was no longer than five yards before returning to a straight and uninterrupted ground.

"The next stairwell we will take, and soon after see your friend," Calemirhan answered. "He is in great care. Belegyril is a gifted healer- it was she he was given to. You shall soon see the power of Elven medicine, faster and purer than any other. Your Dwarf is in good hands."

* * *

><p><strong>~Hopeful News<strong>

The Company stood clustered together, standing before the looming face of a tall oaken door. Calemirhan had ordered us to wait before he slipped inside. There was not much to do, and not much that wanted to be said, as we were all anxious and thinking the same mixture of hopeful and dark thoughts. We were in a high level of an open building. Rivendell was a beautifully organized maze of balconies, staircases, bridges and overlooks, all of which led to some or other room or entryway. Bofur's infirmary room was deep within the length of a hallway built atop a high natural earthen platform. By looking over the barred balcony at our side, opposite the door, we were witness to another stunning perspective of Rivendell. We were higher, and so could peek at the stone paths and marble buildings below, and no structure stood to block our view of the open sky and valley. Silver and dark shadows swirled along an even darker landscape, so that amongst the black silhouettes of canyon and distant wood small pops of white spotted the grounds, illuminating a snuff of tree-top or a gleam of river. It was all very peaceful and serene. A quiet and soft beauty. I could only imagine how to looked in the daylight.

The door creaked open, and Calemirhan's fair face peeped from inside, smiling. "You may come in".

Glancing at each other nervously, Bombor was the first to step inside, followed by the rest of us. Bilbo and I stayed until the end of the line, wanting to give the Dwarves priority in seeing Bofur first. Bofur sat atop a wide and curved bed, his lap and legs swallowed in white blankets and his short waist and head looking so small atop a bed so huge. He was beaming brilliantly, and though pale looked like his normal and merry self. A huge well of relief washed over me- of _course_ he was well. Kili had dealt with the poisons of a morgal shaft for far longer in the films. Bofur suffered them for only a night. The kingsfoil must have worked, and if I wanted to draw connections, I could guess it was this new species fit for Rivendell's climate that was used to cure Frodo in The Fellowship of the Ring. It was all added things that had no connection to the books, but I didn't feel the want to question it. Bofur was doing fine, and that's all that mattered. All was well and right.

We all huddled around him, some plopping down on his bed and others standing beside it. The scene looked exceptionally odd, as I had never seen it before, nor had I ever seen Bofur in such a situation, and without his spiffy hat.

"You look as good as new!" Dori said.

"Glad to see you're alright, laddie," Balin said.

"How's your leg?" Bilbo asked.

"No pain at all!" Bofur grinned. "Belegyril is gifted with herbs."

"I wish I had been there when she used them," Oin said. "I have heard many a thing on Elven healing magic."

"It was a moment I won't be keen on forgetting," Bofur said.

"I have your, um, hat," Bombor said, handing him his brown floppy headpiece.

"Ah! I thought I had given it to you," Bofur said, happily taking his hat and stuffing it over his head. "I was so loopy I wasn't sure."

"He was very worried for it," a sweet voice said from behind. I turned to see a tall woman Elf stepping through the door, a green-leafed package in her hand. She seemed to float inside, as a fluttering white skirt covered her feet and her footsteps were too light to hear. She looked at us with kind gray eyes that were both sharp and soft and from a light and open face. Her brown hair was of a kind I hadn't seen on an Elf before; tight ringlets that fell a bit past her shoulders, a beautiful, darker, and calmer interpretation of a lion's mane, and tied back with a gold ribbon. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw a neat and light smattering of freckles along her nose. She was beautiful, as every dang Elf is, and held herself in a humble but proud manner, so that she came across as delicate but also strong.

"This is Belegyril," Calemirhan said. "One of Rivendell's finest and brightest healers." I noticed a particular fondness in his words. It didn't seem to me that he only meant to praise her talents. Oo la la.

She laughed. "Your words are too high for me." She smiled at us. "But I do my best."

"Damn, if only I had been bitten by that arrow instead," Kili murmured behind me. I heard the thump of Fili whacking. I couldn't help but let out a laugh, turning around to see Kili rubbing his forearm.

"Now, which of you is the Dwarf named Oin?" Belegyril asked.

"That would be I," Oin said, stepping forward.

She held out the bundle in her hand. "This is for your travels. It is more _Athelas_, in case he gets worse or another of you is struck by similar blow."

"I thank you, kind lady," Oin said, bowing his head and accepting the package. I was happy with how the Dwarves were treating these Elves so far. I guess their hearts are easily bought with food. And her caring for Bofur obviously helped.

"Athelas?" Ori asked.

"The Sindarin word for Kingsfoil," I said.

"_How on earth_ do you know that?" Kili asked incredulously.

"That word does seem too random to be in the stars," Fili commented.

"I just read a lot," I said, smiling.

"She is right," Belegyril said. "I had some wrapped for you, as the raids of Orcs seem to be happening more often these days."

"These are dangerous times. They are growing bolder," Calemirhan muttered.

"But no less stupider," Gloin said, winning small chuckles from the Dwarves.

"But what did you mean when you mentioned words in the stars?" Belegryil asked.

"It was nothing," I tried, but Bofur answered at the same time, "she is a psychic."

Oh, crap on a stick. Crap crap hell in a bucket. I inhaled a sharp breath and prayed I wouldn't be asked to give a demonstration. I didn't know these Elves- I had utterly nothing on them.

"A psychic?" Belegryil said wryly.

"That is a gift rare even among Elves," Calemirhan said.

I _really_ didn't want to deal with this right now. Really really _really _didn't want to. This was a time to be spent fussing and laughing with Bofur, not me showing off. And there wasn't much I _could_ show off on, obviously, because these two Elves weren't in any of Tolkien's works, and I wasn't _actually_ psychic. Ugh! I just had to be a smartass and flaunt my knowledge of what seemed to them an utterly useless fact. Crap on a freaking stick. But I was stuck. I couldn't exactly deny it. "It is true, but not so exaggerated," I said.

"She's brilliant," Fili said.

I looked at him curiously. That was a really irritating thing to be said right then, but for some reason I couldn't find it in me to scowl at him. It felt nice, to know that's how he thought of me. "I do not rely on my gifts as much as you think I do," I said. "Most of what I have said or done is simply because I am well educated in many things."

"She's killed two trolls," Ori said.

"And was able to sense them a day away," Dori said.

"Yea, but I misread their location-" I tried.

"Do not be so humble!" Bofur said.

"She is a true 'badass,'" Kili said.

"You knew the Orcs were going to attack today," Oin said.

"If we hadn't left early, we would never have been reached in time," Dwalin grunted. Dammit. Even the hardass Dwalin was joining in.

"Lads, I don't think Natasha wants your praise," Balin said, his eyes smiling. Damn right I didn't. At least not there. Hell, they could talk of my exploits all they wanted- put a freaking crown on my head for all I cared. In fact, listening to them applaud me was lifting and energizing. I loved it. But just _not now._

"The only great thing I managed was the trolls, but that was with pure physical skill alone." And a gun. But I sure as well wasn't about to say that. And it really screwed things up. I credited the two shattered Troll carcasses to be the cause of the Orcs keeping their distance and sticking to arrows.

"You killed two Trolls?" Belegyril asked in a kind, intrigued voice.

Dammit. Wait, no, this was good actually- if I played that up they might forget about the "psychic" crap. Good. This was good. "Yea," I said with perfect casualty. But crap. If any of the Dwarves mentioned the gun…

"It was incredible," Bilbo said.

"I can imagine, for someone so young," Calemirhan said. "How did you do it?"

Son of a freaking literal gun- he just had to ask.

"It was something who's like I had never seen before," Ori exclaimed, excited now. Aw, he was such a sweetie. But dammit now was not the time.

"She carries with her a magnificent weapon-" Oin began.

"My sword," I cut him off. The Dwarves looked at me strangely, and I continued quickly before any could interrupt. I unsheathed my katana and pretended to admire it's blade. "It has been in my family for many, many generations." Lie. "It holds the blood of many angry men." Lie. "When I wield it, I feel the strength of all the warriors who did before it. It gives me strength, and the courage and ability, of warriors ten times my own." Oh, total freaking lie. But I gave the Dwarves a _look,_ a _don't-you-say-a-damn-thing-and-please-please-just-roll-with-it-look._

_"But-" Dori started._

"I often wish for such a sword," Bilbo quickly said over him. Oh, thank the freaking heavens for him.

The other Dwarves started to nod,

"May I see it?" Calemirhan asked. I nodded reluctantly and handed it to him. His beautiful eyes roamed it's blade and handle, turning it over, and I got really nervous. Could he tell that it definitely _wasn't _several hundred years old? "I am not a sword-maker, and I see nothing special in this sword's make." Oh, shit. "But weapons of such ancient family history hold a particular, more personal power, that no crafter can copy. If what you say is true, it is a fine weapon indeed." I thought I head some confusion, or uncertainty, in his voice, but I couldn't trouble my self to pay it any mind.

As he handed it back to me I felt a surge of rushing relief. I talked my way out of that one _really_ nicely. I was so full of BS, but he didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he said nothing. Because I really didn't want to dwell on this any longer, I turned to Bofur. "Will he be walking soon?"

Belegyril walked towards him, putting her hand on his forehead. Bofur blushed, and some of the Dwarves snickered behind me, but the Elf took no notice. "He is healing well- even now his leg is strong enough to carry him." She straightened, and an air of relief and energy passed over the Dwarves. "But I will need him to stay at least once more day, and perhaps several more," she added, and with those words the Dwarves all deflated.

"How come?" Nori asked.

"If you say he is well?" Dori added.

"This Athelas is of newer breed, as I am sure you have been told," she said. "He must stay under my eye until I am certain for if he were to regress during your travels, I could do nothing."

She held a pretty solid argument, though the Dwarves still tried to find reasons to argue.

"I am stronger than I look," Bofur said.

"And we have sustained worse injuries," Dwalin said.

"The lady is right lads," Balin argued.

"As a medical practitioner, I say the same!" Oin shouted loudly, fiddling with his ear trumpet.

"But look a Bifur!" Kili said. "He has a bloody axe in his head, and he's fine."

"Usht Kamfliknau thumglen," is something close to what Bifur grunted.

Kili faltered. "I've no idea what he said, but I'm _sure_ he agrees," he insisted.

"Do not let your love for the road blind you," Calemirhan scolded. He seemed to take particular offense of the Dwarves arguing with Belegyril's ruling. "Do not be so foolish."

"But you really want to keep us here longer, though?" Kili asked, playing on their tense relationship with the Elves. He looked to Fili, but the brother Dwarf seemed to disagree. Some of the other Dwarves seemed to lose their vigor as well.

"A true healer is ignorant to her patient's race," Belegyril said.

"Stop it, all of you," Bombor spoke. "We are arguing over my brother's life. If one more day is the price to keep his health, then so be it. I would sooner give a hundred more than risk his loss."

"You are all so serious," Bofur laughed. "It doesn't suit you. I am perfectly happy staying in the lovely Belegyril's care," he said, smiling at the Elf, which I found only slightly surprising. "And besides a few days away from the road will do us good."

The Dwarves obviously didn't like it, but they muttered their consents. "Someone will have to tell Thorin," Fili said.

"I will do it," Balin said. "I should be returning to him now besides."

"He sends his blessing, by the way," Bilbo said. "As does Gandalf I'm sure."

Bofur smiled, and he and Balin smashed heads in farewell. I heard a small gasp escape Belegyril's lips, but she held in her surprise rather well, considering. I glanced at Calemirhan, curious if the Dwarven custom fazed him at all. His brows were still frowning. He seemed still angry of the past argument. I wondered if there was any unspoken chemistry happening between the two Elves. It was the only explanation I could think of, other than Calemirhan just being a particularly testy fellow, and disapproving of Dwarves challenging Elves.

Balin left, but we stayed longer. Calemirhan and Belegyril sat in the room's corner talking amongst themselves, allowing us privacy. We chatted and laughed, and Bofur's wellbeing and presence re-kindled the group's happy fire. It was all very nice and cozy, and for those few hours all concerns and thoughts of our quest flew far, far away.

* * *

><p><strong>Thorin will discover his runes this night<strong>

**The Company will press their time.**

**But they can't leave some behind.**

**Natasha's choices must be rushed,**

**But each one will unsettle the dust**

**of this story-book world.**


	12. Will of the Stars

((~AU: Hey! I know the wait's been long. But you know how it is- school has grown increasingly more demanding. Just know that not posting a new chapter in a while doesn't mean I've quit! I'm having too much fun to do that.

There are a few irritating typos since I was in a rush to post it before heading off for a 5 hour car ride. I'll fix them once I get home. ^.^ I hope you enjoy this, and I'll try to be better!?)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

**Will of the Stars**

* * *

><p><strong>~After the Map<strong>

A mid-summer's moon glowed above us, bathing our heads and beds in a warm silver glow. Our Company sat in a circle, all but Bofur present, with nit brows and stern faces. I sat beside Bilbo and Gandalf, to Thorin's right, and had a rather obscure view of our treasured map. But I knew what it said, and Thorin had repeated the words many times besides.

"So then, how long do we have?" Bilbo asked.

"Weeks, at most," Thorin answered.

The Company was silent for a while, until Ori piped up. "But why are we so solemn? This is _good_ news! We know the way now!"

"Yes," I muttered. "It is final. We now know the way to the dragon's door."

"But it isn't the dragon's door," Bilbo pointed. "Right? Isn't that the whole point; it's the only way inside that won't wake Smaug?"

"Indeed," Gandalf said. "But hidden or not, once inside it makes no difference. We must be silent all the way- that is why we have a burglar," the wizard looked upon Bilbo with smiling eyes.

"Still, it is a dragon's den," I said darkly. Now that the Dwarves had the moon-runes, there was no questioning the ability of our quest. There _was_ a door, they now knew for certain, which meant the possibility of finding it. Before Rivendell it was all a hopeful quest. Now it was official. And as someone who knew waking Smaug was inevitable, I wasn't exactly looking towards the path ahead with a happy and optimistic attitude. And I wouldn't even fool myself into thinking I could somehow avoid Smaug's waking. I just knew if I took one darn step inside Erebor everything would blow up on our faces. Ha- the moment my foot touched the gold of the treasury room Miss Lady Luck would cause an avalanche of jewels, because that was exactly the type of thing that would happen to me. Life would be too easy otherwise.

"But will we make it in time?" Dwalin asked.

"The days will be too close for comfort," Thorin said.

"I just want to point out how fantastically convenient this has been for us so far," I said, trying to shake away the suffocating thoughts of mortal and inevitable doom from my mind, because those thoughts never helped anyone. The Company all looked at me quizingly. "I mean, of all the days we could have arrived, this just so happens to be the exact moon we needed," I said, looking up at the sky. Just call it the beautiful -

"But will it remain so?" Gloin asked.

"Enough of this!" Kili said, standing to his feet. "What are you all doing? We shouldn't be brooding in the dark, moping like we have...lost already!" He looked up to the sky. "Natasha is right, the moon is on our side. She's given us to reason to doubt yet."

"Sit down," Thorin growled, yanking Kili's robe and pushing him to the ground. "Or do you want all the Elves in Rivendell to look our way." He reached forward, flattening the map further onto the gray stone with his fingers. Kili looked disheartened. "But never mind it," Thorin said. "You are right, at least in part. I will not have this dour spirit dampen our quest. Tonight is a time for planning, besides."

"What is there to plan?" Bilbo asked. "Well. We have the map uncovered, and know there the way of getting inside. What else is there?"

"Deciding when to leave," Balin answered.

"Bofur," I noted.

"Ah, yes, that would be…-humph an important something," Bilbo muttered.

I bit my tongue. The thought of the Orcs kept gnawing at my mind like a pestilent rat. Were they chasing Thorin? Or trekking to the mountain, as well as us? Thorin had a bounty on his head before this quest, and with Azog in the lead no doubt we were a followed target. But...I looked at Gandalf and studied him in the moonlight. His hat cast dark shadows over his deep-lined face, his gray cloak spilled over his feet and reaching the stones some bit away. Gandalf had a different motive for this quest. What did he care, to deliberately track Thorin down and send the Dwarves on such a mission, of Erebor being reclaimed by the Dwarves? As a Wizard he would meddle, or begin such things, unless there was a more important reason.

_Smaug. _Gandalf might not be aware of Sauron's rising but darkness in Middle Earth was clearly luring. The Orcs are growing rowdier, bolder, and more organized. Radaghast's forest is dying. Mirkwood's spider infestation is worsening. In the book, the White Council were already aware of Sauron, and Gandalf stared this quest for the sole purpose of killing Smaug. Were Sauron to recruit a freaking dragon...Legit fiery hell would brake loose. But now, in movie-world? What was Gandalf's motive? If it's still because he wants Smaug dead, then why now, as opposed to any other time? And the Orcs- are they just hunting Thorin, or traveling to Erebor to negotiate with Smaug, and just happen to coincide with our Quest? Damn...Peter Jackson left me with some pretty freaking big plot holes to deal with. _Ugh. _It really, just, really really sucked.

"We must leave as soon as possible," Thorin said. "The moon will not wait with us."

"But Bofur is still healing!" Bombor argued.

"Be that as it may, I will not risk the fate of this quest for the life of one Dwarf," Thorin said. That phrase...So familiar. "We will leave tomorrow night." Bombor gave an exasperated sigh. "I am sorry, but there is simply no other way," Thorin explained gently, regretful. "Even as we now speak we are pressed for time."

"If he isn't healed by then, then those who want to stay behind can certainly meet up with us later," I suggested.

"Indeed," Gandalf said.

"So it's settled then," Dwalin said. "We leave tomorrow."

Thorin nodded. "At night, when the dark covers us. I have feeling Lord Elrond will not want us gone so soon. Not when he is suspicious and guessing of our Quest."

"Yes, you'll have to leave without his knowing," Gandalf said, "and as quietly as possible, if you can manage that," he added as a murmur.

"I'll see Bofur first thing tomorrow," Bombor said. "See if he's ready."

"Do no pack your things until tomorrow's nightfall," Thorin said. "We cannot give sign of our early leave."

The Dwarves started moving, the conversation gradually reaching its end. Their camp was there on the cold cobblestone, as they were too darn stubborn to accept any more courtesy than necessary from the Elves. Bilbo, Gandalf and I all were given rooms conveniently nearby, and as the Dwarves ruffled in their packings the three of us stood to leave.

"Do try and stay out of trouble," Gandalf said. "And take a wash while you're here. Any enemy could smell you from a mile away."

* * *

><p><strong>~Hospitable Elves<strong>

The aspect of a clean bathing was so heavenly, it distracted from all other thoughts, even, shamefully, the more pressing concerns. But even as I rewrapped my hair violently in a bun, as it was so slippery with oil only the tightest bindings could keep it from falling, and dressed into a clean, soft, blank T-shirt and loose black leggings, I could still _feel_ the grime on my body. I couldn't smell it, but knew how awful and wide-berthed my damn BO must have been. Yuck- those poor Elves.

The guest room was welcoming, opening, and so freaking beautiful. It was just how I remembered Frodo's to be; open- so incredibly open with tall arching windows on all sides other than the wall that backed the bed, which was clothed in lavish white blankets. The bed was a grand oaken cloud at the base of a protective ivory stone woman with her arms spread wide, her place taken that of a headboard. The room was more window than wall actually- had there been no glass it could be a practical but embellished gazebo. More statues stood at the column-like frames between these windows, some holding swords, others books or their hands clasped together, or else no statue at all but a decoration of high-draping ivory stones that interwove and crossed and reminded me of antlers. A shapely, abstract rocking chair sat in the open space and a tall candlebra holding about twelve lit candles stood by the bed. A small round table in the corner, two doors with intricate handles that was probably a closet, another door on the far wall, and my black backpack resting neatly on the bed. The only pops of color were the deep oaken brought of the bed's frame, the moon-like gray of the statues, the whites of bound curtains on each window's side, and everywhere else a soft, creamy ivory. Holy baby Jesus in a helicopter.

I stood, stunned, in the doorway. It was just...like...so...you know? A small chuckle from behind me, and Calemdir spoke. "I take it it is to your liking?"

I didn't really know what to say, so I nodded and let out a strangled "uh huh." I stepped inside, worried that I might track mud on the white-stone floor or else break every freaking thing in the room in one idiotic, clumsy, and mortifying accident. It was just so something that would happen to me. I cleared my throat. "Um, yea, this will do."

Calemdir smiled. He had guided Bilbo and me to our rooms, which were right beside each other's. On the way we chatted, because unlike the Dwarves Bilbo and I weren't rude company, and Calemdir answered most of our questions. Turns out he and his twin Calemirhan, whose name was so similar it pissed me off, were like the everything-do-ers. They were some relatives of Erestor who was some important Elf guy on Elrond's council and like, their great-in law-brother-thrice removed-confusing-uncle or something like that (the string of words was way to long for me to really care.) The twins had a lot of responsibilities in Elrond's court, with administration, supervising, maintain political relationships with the other Elven clans, messengers, record-keepers, and like a ton of other stuff. Basically they were like high-class meca-servants, but I wasn't about to refer to them as such.

"I will take my leave now, if you have no more questions to ask or words to say," he said.

Oh, very funny. I met the damn Elf that morning and already he's keen on my habit on incessant talking and curiosity. Well, the jokes on him, because I actually did have something to ask. Something vitally important, albeit very very awkward. "Um, well, I was hoping you could tell me where I could...wash up." I kept my face from cringing. Ugh, the century-old Elf probably thought I was adorable, in an incredibly patronizing sense.

Calemdir smiled. "Hot water was brought to your room only a few minutes before. That door leads to the basin." He motioned his hand in a graceful wave downwards the door on the farthest wall.

Oh, freaking thank G-d. "I've been on the road for so many days now," I said, staring longingly at the door.

"So I have heard. Perhaps in the morning you could tell me your tales, which are supposedly daring and valiant. Perhaps I could turn them to song."

I looked at him. "Oh right, you did say you were a song-writer on the walk here." But, wasn't every living thing that breathed a songwriter in Middle Earth?

"As many are," he said. Ha. Called it. "Is there anything more?" He asked, without the slightest hint of impatience.

I shook my head. "No, and thank you so much."

He nodded. "Very well, and you are welcome. _Quel kaima_, a good night to you."

"Huh? Oh, yea, have a good night," I said.

The Elf left, and I was alone in a room with a bed. A soft bed that looked like an ethereal cloud and really, _really_ comfortable. It was so inviting, it almost sated by curiosity. But though my tired bones ached to lie and soften, and my mind was numb and exhausted from the day utterly crammed with events so exciting I was surprised I wasn't dead, I wanted to look around. The first thing I do when walking into a hotel room is scour every inch of it. It's not like I expected to find anything worthwhile, but I was just a curious person.

The candelabra bathed the room in a soft warm glow, mingling with the dark of night behind the windows to create a perfect ambiance of tranquility. The light was kind, not sharp, but well enough to brighten my way to the closet. I stroked the intricate, adorning wooden handles whimsically, admiring the effort in handiwork for something so small. I pulled them open, and sighed with relief. I was like one of the heavy boulders pressing on my chest fell away, making every burden easier to carry. _Clothes._ Oh, thank god! Clean, airy, appropriate and matching to the world, I had never been so happy about finding clothes than at that moment. I riffled through them, examining each one with wonder. They weren't, like, special or anything. They were simple, inexpensive and lightly decorated, ranging in a verity of color and cuts but were overall very alike. I turned around and scrambled to close all the curtains. It was actually kind of annoying, because the entire room was basically windows separated by some wide sliver of wall, but I managed it, and when I was safe in my privacy I freaking tore of my clothes. The Tauriel cosplay had served me well, but it stunk and was caked in mud. I tossed to the floor beside the washroom door, planning to clean it at one point. I shuffled through the closet again, remembering a few very plain, soft dresses lighter than the others. Aha. I removed one at random- it was airy and plain, a soft silver, and of the most delicate, silky material I've ever felt. Hot damn these Elves knew what they were doing. I figured it to be a nightgown, because it was more open and so different from most of the other dresses. Draping the dress over my shoulder I brought it and my bag into the washroom, and took the first proper cleaning of my adventure.

The candles were still alight. I sat on my bed, sunk into the plush mattress and atop the folds of blankets. I looked out the windows absently as I combed my hair, which dripped over my shoulder, admiring the lanterns and golden orbs that speckled Rivendell, celestial enough to rival the stars.

I had never felt so graceful before. There was just something about Rivendell, about the silken nightgown and fragrant soaps from the washroom and sitting in such an exquisite room, that gave me a sense of...elegance. There was nothing changed about me- physically at least, but the entire setting made me feel like a delicate flower...or something. Maybe it was just being actually clean for the first time in some like freaking forever. That was probably it- I could actually feel and see my skin and it was marvelous.

Finished with my hair, I stood to watch through the window one last time before I went to sleep. The night was too dark to see any view except for the lights, and the subtle silver glow of distant waterfalls. But the _lights._ From candles and lanterns and maybe something else, encompassed by darkness so that they seemed to float in the air. Elves didn't sleep; those small lights that moved where no doubt candle's to light their ways. It was all very beautiful, enchanting, mesmerizing. And there waa a small light that shone from farther away, alone, and I squinted my eyes to see it better. All I could make out was a dark and short silhouette against an ever-darker background. _Very _short, actually. And some ways away from the Dwarves' camp.

Ah, damn my insatiable curiosity. The bed called out to me, the thought of blissful sleep enticing me to leave it be. But I knew I wouldn't be satisfied until I found out who it was. It must have been one of the dwarves, as an Elf would appear taller despite the perspective warped by distance. He probably wanted to be alone, since he stood so far away, and I didn't really have the right to intrude on his privacy…

But dammit. I wasn't known for my social awareness. Impulsive, yes, and I tended to have a lack for respecting someone's privacy until I had already violated it. So hey, why the hell not.

* * *

><p><strong>~Lonely Cliff, Lonely King<strong>

The night was cold. _Really_ cold. And the nightgown was long. _Really_ long. I was bundled in one of my insulating coats and held bunches of the dress in my hands. It was so clean and pristine and not filthy- I was so used to dirt already that the thought of mudding up such a treasure was horrifying. Plus I didn't want to trip. Because, again, it was _really really_ long. Damn Elves and their damn Elvish tallness. Like, just get over yourselves already.

Surprisingly, but fortunately, I didn't run into any Elves on my walk. If I had, they would have seen my coat strange to this world, and probably would have been all, "whoa, what?" But like, a lot more elegantly than that. I wondered if it made any difference though- didn't Elves have, like, insane eyesight, even in the dark? Probably. It seemed familiar and I wouldn't be surprised. But whatever. I was cold and tired and irritated that I just _had_ to be all nosy. But I was clean, and wearing clean clothes, so that was alright.

Shivering, I made my way towards the lonely light. It was farther than expected. I held a candle in my hand, unwilling still to shine a flashlight in such a populated area, though it's flame was small, and it's glow wavering. Hardly enough to light up my way, I stumbled along the pathways. He was high up, on a platform that overlooked the shrouded expanse of mountain and valley. I had to climb stairs to reach him. When I reached the top, I marveled at how...serene it was. It was like a stage beneath the stars, standing alone and framed by incandescent falling waters, illuminated with the silver aura of the moon. Those falling waters were soft, whispering and glimmering, and the delicate voices of Elvish song swayed in the air, carried by a light breeze. This lonely ridge was gentle, serene, and somber.

I walked to the Dwarf standing at the edge. My footsteps pattered on the stones as I came closer. His head was craned towards the sky, candle flickering at his feet, and a soft humming tune filled the air around him. It was Thorin. He made no acknowledgment of my arrival until I reached his side. Only then did his eyes flick towards me, then back to the sky again.

Obviously, I had no idea what to do or say. He probably didn't want me there- wanted to be in a secluded place and contemplate life; alone. That angered me for some reason. I always considered Thorin a character who pushed people away. I've known people to do that, either intentionally or not. I've had friends who came to hate the world, who actively pushed everyone's open hands away and then fell deeper into their rejected-mind state because they felt abandoned. It...It's a sad and painful thing to see that happen, but also...insulting. You grow irritated because they slap your hand away but blame you for the increasing distance. And then you feel horrifically guilty for feeling irritated- they're in a bad place and can't help it. As a person who wants to be compassionate, who wants to give them a hug, to help, it's agonizing to be turned away. Your friend is inadvertently digging a trench between you, and your hands aren't big enough to fill it back.

Thorin wasn't like that. But he did push people away. He was alone, a crownless king who had nothing to offer his followers. He has suffered, he has lost, and has been wandering since. And he has let his agonies separate him from those who are loyal, who are followers, who love him. He's probably afraid of hurting people, of failing the Company, his father's name, and Durin's line. They all looked at him as their rightful king, but did he?

I looked up at the stars with him, unsure what to say, but refusing to leave him be. Dammit Thorin's been alone for too long. If I have to invade on his personal space, be rude and obnoxiously persistent, then dammit I will be. "The stars are bright tonight," I said. I wasn't even surprised anymore at how pathetic that attempt was.

Thorin grunted, but was silent for a long moment. The soft voices of the singing Elves played in the night, as delicate as the autumn breeze. "I do not care for them," he said finally, with that gruff and heavy voice that always sounded disinterested. You never knew when he was giving his final words in a conversation. It was intimidating, and very annoying.

"Then what are you looking at?" I asked. I tried to follow his gaze, but saw nothing other than the stars and moon. "Oh." _The moon._ That was stupid of me. Of course he was pondering it. The moon had just given us the key to our quest, second to the one resting in Thorin's pocket. Maybe he wondered what it would bring us. Or if anyone was behind, watching and guiding his poor company. I never gave much thought to the incredible timing we have had thus far. So fantastic; it certainly seemed someone was up there, clearing the path before us. But a guiding hand can only bring us so far.

"Are you afraid we won't make it?" I asked. I hesitated, then added, "afraid that we will?"

"What do you know of it," he said. But his tone was flat and stale- I couldn't tell if his question was a question at all. Didn't stop me from answering, of course.

"A lot more than you'd think," I said. I sighed, and with my head dropped, I repeated "a lot for than you'd think."

He looked at me. "What is your story then, that you should feel so understanding of mine," he said harshly.

I shook my head and put my hands in my coat pockets. "I don't have a story, Thorin. I'm just some irrelevant kid from some small town nobody's heard of. But, here." I motioned towards the high expanse of sky. "You look at the stars and find them unimportant, uncaring. I know Kili finds them distant and cold. But I see stories." I paused, and looked at him with stern, but dreamy, eyes. "I see your stories. Your past. Your present. Your future, even." I hesitated. "I've learned recently that it's possible to change the stars. In some ways I've been very selfish, coming here, joining you. But I find the story of Durin...sympathetic. Compelling." My thoughts wandered to Kili and Fili, and all the lives that had been twisted and tortured for the sake of a good story. That story was wondrous, of course. But here, wherever "here" is, whatever "here" means, here it's no longer a story. It's real. All of those people, all of those tears to be shed, chests to be pierced, lives to be broken and lost, they're all real. It's ok to read a tragic story, but to live it...This world is so full of strength, and courage. Brotherly love and sacrifice rarely seen, rarely _needing_ to be seen, in Brentbrook. There have been moments of devastating struggles in Brentbrook, but it's the _air_ that makes Middle Earth different. It is romanticized- but that's what people do. Brentbrook dwellers romanticize their stories because their lives are so...impersonal. There are more methods of destruction, and a decreasing want for intimate interaction. There are no orcs or bestial races that raid our cities and threaten our lives, but then nothing to unite us as a people. In Middle Earth, the Elves and Dwarfs and men ignore long-tied hatred and rivalries to stand and fight together against a common enemy. But for us, since there are no monsters to fight, we replace them.

"Life is too damn tragic," I said bitterly, "and I refuse to feel powerless to the destruction that...that ravages our hearts and tramples our lives. Why would people be aloud to see the stars, why would I _be put here, _if we weren't meant to change things?" I glared at the stars, startled by what I just said. But of course. Like with tonight's moon, my presence here was too damn fantastic to be coincidence. "If we weren't meant to have our say."

I sighed, and sat down. The stones were cold. "So sit down. Relax a little and put some faith in _yourself_. I'm here to help."

Thorin looked at me for a long, silent moment. I knew his life, but I had no clue what he was thinking. His eyes were cold and unmoving, but then he sat down beside me with a grunt. He looked back to the sky, but I caught his eyes roving it all, not just the moon. "What will happen to them?" he asked.

I looked at him, only slightly uncertain what he meant. But in all truth, was there anyone else he could be referring to? "Kili and Fili?" I asked. He was silent. I open my mouth to answer, but hesitated, unsure what to say. I damn well knew what would happen to them. After a short pause, I spoke. "Like I said, I am here to help." I thought that a decent reply- it gave him truth, but also some hope. Perhaps it would be best for him to know. It would make him more inclined to listen to me. "But you'll have to let me."

Thorin didn't flinch. He didn't change his stern face or seem any less happy or sad. He just...he just sat there and stared at the sky. "There are many stars. How can you be sure?"

"Well, none of them are quite like the other. They intertwine, cross each other, and move a bit every night, but each tells it's own tale. There are millions of stories up there. I was just lucky to pick up yours." Pick up, and flip through its pages. "Sometimes stars disappear, or come falling down. But they can also _streak_ across the sky, glow brightly, come together and even lead our way. I do not think they are passive fortune tellers." I stretched my hand far. "They might be too high to reach, but that just means they can see what's ahead of us, before we cross it, and give us fair warning."

"You sound like an Elf," he said.

"That is something only a Dwarves would say so accusingly," I smiled.

"At least I don't believe they have eyes on the backs of their heads," he said.

I turned to him, feigning amazement. "Was that a joke I heard?! Who would have thought that Thorin Oakensheid had a sense of humor," I said teasingly. I looked at him. "You should smile more, it suits you."

To that Thorin grunted, of course.

"No? Alright then, I'll take what I can get." I yawned widely, then stood up with a sigh. "Well, it's late, and I don't feel I should intrude on you any longer. Go back to your contemplation."

"Have a good night," he said, with the slightest bit of warmth that made me so freaking pleased.

"Yes, you too," I said before turning away. I drew my coat in closer, shivering from the dampness of my hair and the chill of this cold night. As I reached the stairway, I looked back. "Oh, and Thorin?" He turned his head. "You know how you love the Dwarves, and want only what's best for them? Well, they feel the same way."

And I left him there, alone on the cliff, staring at the moon but now the stars as well.


End file.
